How Sweet It Is
by violette7
Summary: Justin loves food. Way too much. He and Brian meet. Justin is smitten, but Brian sees him as only a friend. Justin confesses to having a crush on "Joe," and Brian decides to help Justin get his man. Then Brian realizes that he wants Justin for himself.
1. Roy's Restaurant, Part 1: Enter Justin

Justin was at his favorite restaurant. A Cajun place called Roy's. Roy was the name of the owner/main chef. He made the most heavenly biscuits. They were moist and lighter than air. They did not simply melt in your mouth but on the way to your mouth, the moment your warm breath hit the fork (Justin was peculiar that way; he ate everything, even pizza, with utensils. A throwback to the time when he'd worn braces). And Roy's sauces…they were the nectar of the Gods. Roy created the most interesting combinations of ingredients (ingredients no one else would ever think to juxtapose) and teased out their flavor. Nothing was ever heavy handed, no one ingredient ever dominating the others. He used just enough of each, and every ingredient always complemented the others. The only problem was that Roy didn't much care about healthy eating. Taste was his God, and he was its most faithful servant. He used real butter or bacon grease (never vegetable oil), and copious quantities, so every dish rose to the thousands of calories. Roy's vegetables, too, were fattening; for example, he used bacon to accentuate the flavor of green beans. Vegetarians couldn't even breathe the air in Roy's. Justin came here often these days. Roy's food was the only distraction distracting enough to wrest all thoughts of his shitty life from his mind. This night had been a phenomenal failure, so Justin was indulging in a rather complex dish, Catfish Courtbouillon. It had a million flavors (okay maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but only slight), and Justin could pick every single one of them out as he savored each bite. Together they made paradise.

Tonight Justin had done something ridiculously stupid. He'd gone to Babylon, danced, and then, when his partner invited him to the back room, he'd enthusiastically agreed. The guy had been so hot. He'd had a perfect lean body, a huge cock (if the way it had filled out his tight jeans were any indication), and dark, dark brown hair that matched the chocolate of his eyes. Justin sighed heavily as he remembered. But all was forgotten when he placed another forkful of Roy's delicious concoction into his mouth. He sighed again, but this time in contentment. Roy never failed him.

This morning, Justin had felt a surge of confidence that he hadn't felt in a long time. So he'd gone down to Liberty Avenue, combing the boutiques for something that would highlight his good qualities and hide his flaws. He'd been persistent. It had taken all day, but he'd found clothes he was sure would do the trick. Tight black pants that drew attention to his bubble butt, round but firm, and a shirt that was tight in the chest and loose at the waist. You see, Justin had a bit of a potbelly. More than a bit really. Justin had been trying and failing to lose the extra 20-30 pounds he'd gained for two years now. All this extra weight had gone to his midsection. His legs, arms, and ass were just as perfect as they'd always been, but his abdominal region was disgusting. The guy who'd invited Justin to the back room just confirmed this. They were going at it hot and heavy until the guy had taken Justin's shirt off. He'd just stared at Justin's belly for a moment. Then he'd thrown Justin's shirt back at him and had simply walked away. No pretense to protect Justin's feelings. After a look of disgust, he was gone. Justin had turned around in shame (the other guys in the back room were whispering, pointing, and laughing). Once Justin had put his shirt back on, he ran out of the back room and out of the club. He'd actually run, all the way to his car. Then he threw a large overcoat on and headed right over to Roy's. He knew Roy's was part of the problem, but he just couldn't help it. Nothing lifted his spirits like the food there. Nothing.

Justin was now so absorbed in his food that he didn't notice the tall chestnut-haired man who was trying to get his attention. Not at first. The man finally succeeded by tapping him on the shoulder. Startled, Justin looked up. He was immediately entranced by the man's beautiful eyes. They were sea green flecked with gold. Justin tried to speak, but no sound came. He ended up simply gaping at the man. The man chuckled and then asked, for the third time, "Do you mind if I sit with you? The restaurant is packed, and I'm dying for some ettoufee."

Finally, Justin found his voice. "Oh, um, sure."

The man smiled, removed his leather jacket, and then sat down. He chuckled once more, a noise Justin thought might be the most beautiful sound in the world, and inquired, "Are you cold? Or in a hurry?"

Justin just stared at him blankly.

The man smiled, just a little. "Your coat."

Justin blushed a deep crimson, in part as a reaction to the man's smile and in part out of shame. Then he stammered, "Oh…yeah, I am a little cold." That was actually far from the truth. Justin was boiling in his bulky coat, but he just couldn't risk anymore ridicule. In it, he felt safe.

The man reached out his hand. "I'm Brian. Brian Kinney."

Justin smiled brightly as he took the man's hand in his. He had to, to suppress a nervous, enthusiastic giggle. Brian's touch was electrifying. At once, Justin felt a melting sensation and jolts of electricity coursing throughout his body. Justin's cock immediately hardened. When the hand shake had passed all bounds of decorum, Brian prodded, "And you are?"

Justin laughed, blushed a little, and replied quickly, "Sorry. Justin. Justin Taylor." Then just as quickly, he pulled his hand away.


	2. Roy's Restaurant, Part 2: Enter Brian

Brian came to Roy's restaurant exactly once a month. He'd pig out on the richest, most delicious food in town and, then, the next day, start his three-day juice diet. No one knew his dirty little secret. Well, he should say, _this_ one. He had many dirty little secrets, and few were privy to even one, let alone all of them. Not even his best friend Mikey. But Mikey was pretty clueless about everything. Brian made everything he was look easy. But being Brian Kinney wasn't easy. Not by a long shot. He worked out every day, watched what he ate, and, when he could no longer take plain grilled chicken and fish and enough fruit and vegetables to choke a horse, he'd come here, stuff himself, and after a night of delicious fullness, begin his monthly purge. Mikey thought that Brian kept weight off effortlessly because of their occasional pig outs when they got high. What Mikey didn't see was what happened after they'd splurged. As soon as Mikey was out the door, Brian would do a line of coke and hop on the treadmill. Then he'd spend an extra hour at the gym every day that week. Mikey had no clue what each bite of junk food eventually cost Brian. As it was, Brian always came an hour earlier to the gym than the rest of the gang. No one knew how much time he actually spent there. But that was okay. Brian liked astounding everyone. He'd always been able to do what others could not. Mostly because they weren't willing to make the sacrifices Brian was prepared to make. Brian always got what he wanted. Whatever the cost.

This was true for even the most mundane tasks. Like getting a seat in his favorite restaurant on the busiest night of the week, Friday (The restaurant was first come, first served; Brian would have liked nothing better than to make a reservation for his monthly visit, but that wasn't possible). Most people would have waited for tables to clear or left, but not Brian. He wanted ettoufee, and he wanted it now. So he'd scanned the room for loners. There were three. He dismissed the first two because they were serious trolls, but the third, he was alright. Blond hair, attractive face. When Brian had finally gotten his attention, he was rewarded with a warm smile and the clearest blue eyes he'd ever seen. Brian was almost stunned, but, as always, he had his eye on the ball. He'd already sized the guy up and had decided that honesty with a dash of friendliness would get him what he wanted. So, for the third time, he explained his situation, but, this time, he also flashed him a soft smile. After he was seated, he even teased the young man gently and introduced himself. In general, he would never take the time to offer such niceties, especially after he'd gotten what he wanted. But…there was something about this blond boy (he couldn't put his finger on it) that spurred Brian to do just that.

In fact, Brian went beyond simple niceties. After he had ordered but before he had received his food, he tried to start up a conversation. Unfortunately, Justin seemed as uncomfortable as he was. Brian was used to other people doing most of the talking: Mikey; Lindsay, a friend from college and the mother of his child; Debbie, Mikey's mother and Brian's surrogate mother; and Emmett, a friend of Mikey's, were all very talkative. Brian was used to listening to them talk, only occasionally interjecting a snarky remark or a titillating story. Brian cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat. Then he asked, perhaps the lamest conversation starter ever, "So do you come here often?"

Justin nodded and smiled. "It's my favorite restaurant."

Brian found himself smiling back. "Mine, too."

At that Justin quirked an eyebrow. "Really? I've never seen you here before…"

Brian shrugged. "I only come here once a month. The food is great, but too fattening."

Justin nodded absently and looked down. Now it was his turn to fidget uncomfortably in his chair as he remembered the nightmare his trip to Babylon had been and pushed food around on his plate.

After a couple minutes of silence, Brian trotted out another lame potential conversation starter, "So what do you do for a living?"

This livened Justin up and brought his eyes back to Brian. "Oh, uh, I write restaurant reviews for the _Pittsburgh Post-Gazette_."

Brian couldn't help but be a little impressed. He'd actually read some of those. JT, the food critic, reviewed a wide variety of restaurants. He wasn't like some food critics who only go to high-class places. He'd review restaurants that most people wouldn't look at twice, restaurants that, at first glance, appeared to be dives (Roy's included). "You're JT?"

Justin smiled shyly and nodded.

Brian couldn't help smiling back. "You're the reason I'm here."

Justin's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"I decided to give this place a shot after reading your review last year."

"Oh. Really?" Brian couldn't help but be a little touched by the hopeful look on Justin's face. Brian nodded, and Justin smiled again. This time a million-watt smile.

"So how did you get into that line of work?"

Justin shrugged and smiled. "I like food. I was always looking for new places to go, and once, after I'd found a truly incredible restaurant, one that few people even knew about, I got this crazy idea to write a review and send to the _Post-Gazette_. Two weeks later, I received a letter offering me an interview. I was hired on a probationary basis three days after that."

Brian's eyes widened, and he nodded in approval. He liked self-made men.

"So, um, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm in advertising." Brian was expecting some social commentary as always seemed to come out when he mentioned work…with Debbie, it would have been about what new homophobic conglomeration (or 'devil') he was supporting by helping to advertise its products; with Lindsay, it would have been about how advertising's use of the human body was creating standards of beauty that were generally unattainable, thus adding to the number of women binging and purging, starving themselves, and going under the knife; with Mel, Lindsay's wife, it would have been about how advertising reinforces gender stereotypes promulgated by men in an attempt to control women; with Ben, Mikey's boyfriend, it would have been about advertising's fueling the consumerism that was destroying America and, by extension, the world; with Mikey, it would have been about the commercialization of his favorite comic book heroes, which led to bad movies that completely ignored the comic book in question's original storyline; and so on. Ted and Emmett were on the same page; they wanted to see more hot guys and more of hot guys (i.e., more skin).

But Justin asked simply (without a frown or a grimace), "Have you done anything I might have seen?"

Brian was so startled by the lack of judgment that he just stared for a moment. Then he replied, "I did one recently for a cell phone company with the slogan 'the hub of the world.'"

Justin smiled and interjected excitedly, "Oh yeah…the one with the wheel drawn on the picture of the world…and pictures of people on every continent taken with the cell phone."

"Yeah."

"I loved that one. Using cell phone pictures was so clever! And I loved that you started with Africa…the source of all life. Nice way to de-emphasize the importance of 'the white man.' Perfect for this sociocultural climate."

Brian just stared at Justin. He was beyond shocked. No one _ever_ noticed when he produced something of social value. Most people automatically thought the worst of him, so they were very critical, even when he did something good.

Of course, Brian told Justin nothing of that. He merely smiled and muttered, "Thanks." But after they'd finished eating, he found himself asking what restaurant Justin was reviewing next, and when Justin answered, "A French-African fusion restaurant on Situation Avenue," he found himself asking, "Mind if I tag along?"

Justin answered with a bright smile (and his phone number).


	3. Longing

Justin and Brian, after many rounds of phone tag, were finally going to meet at the French-African fusion restaurant Justin had mentioned. Justin wasn't unhappy about the delay. They had ended up talking many times throughout the week, and he was much better on the phone. As a disembodied voice, he felt much more confident. He'd explained the secret touches the chefs had made to Brian's favorite dishes at various restaurants; Brian was extremely impressed by Justin's highly sensitive taste buds and broad knowledge of cuisine and said so, many times. And, with Brian at the other end of the line, Justin even felt sexy. Every other day over the past week, Brian had called Justin in the middle of the night (Brian knew Justin was an evening/night person; Justin never had to wake up early) complaining that he was still awake so that Justin could lull him to sleep. Justin's voice was low and husky and, Brian claimed, sexy as hell. Justin wished so hard that Brian would use their late-night chats to jerk off rather than to fall asleep, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that Brian found talking with him relaxing and his voice, sexy.

Now, eight days after their initial encounter, they were finally meeting at the French-African fusion restaurant. Justin had arrived early to get them seats (or so he'd told himself; in reality, he just wanted his belly to be safely hidden by the table when Brian arrived). He'd taken his coat off and put it back on several times before Brian appeared. Even with the table, Justin felt exposed without his coat on (normally, he wouldn't have cared, but Brian was going to be there, and Justin liked Brian more than he'd liked any man since he'd hit puberty. Brian may not have used their conversations to jerk off, but Justin had. And, they'd been the best orgasms of his life.) So when Brian finally sauntered in, Justin was still wearing his coat.

Brian's face actually brightened when he caught sight of Justin. He smiled softly and made his way across the restaurant to where Justin was seated. But he didn't sit right away. Instead, he stood next to Justin's chair and said, "Come on."

Justin was baffled. "What?"

Brian laughed. "Stand up."

Justin was growing very uncomfortable. He most definitely did not want to stand up, but Brian was insistent. Refusing him would probably just make a bad situation worse. So Justin slowly rose to his feet. Then the bad situation grew to nightmarish proportions without any help from him. Brian was taking off Justin's coat. Justin nearly panicked. In as calm a voice as he could manage, he said, "Brian, I'm a little cold. Leave it on."

Brian looked at him dubiously. "Justin, you're sweating."

Justin touched his forehead. "Oh, am I?" He really was, but he wasn't sure it was because he was hot.

Brian muttered, "Not surprising. It's like a furnace in here." Then he tugged at Justin's buttons and pulled his coat off. Unfortunately, all the tugging and pulling caused Justin's shirt to ride up a bit, just enough to bring his potbelly into view. And Brian saw it. Justin knew he had because Brian's eyes widened a little and he grimaced slightly. Justin turned five shades of red and sat down quickly. Brian didn't say anything. He just hung Justin's coat up on a nearby coat rack and joined Justin at the table. Justin was a little surprised. He'd half expected Brian to leave. At first, he almost wished Brian had left. He couldn't look Brian in the eye, and he could tell that he was still blushing (his face was hot). At the same time, he felt flushed. Like he might faint.

Despite the widened eyes and the slight grimace, when Brian returned to the table, he acted as though he had seen nothing. He picked up the menu and perused it, finally asking, "Any recommendations?"

Justin looked up, but he was still dazed. He replied, "Huh?"

Brian chuckled. "Are the words too big for you, or are you just dazzled by my hotness?"

Justin laughed in spite of himself. Maybe Brian didn't find him repugnant after all. Course not repugnant and attractive were two very different things.

After they'd ordered, Brian said to the waiter, "This is the food critic from the _Pittsburgh Post-__Gazette, so I'd make it good if I were you."_

_The waiter paled and ran off. _

_Justin protested, "Brian…there was no need to scare the guy!"_

_Brian harrumphed. "How are they going to know they should kiss your ass if you don't tell them who you are?"_

_Justin shook his head. "If the food is good, they'll get a good review. They don't need to treat me differently."_

Brian sighed. "You're lucky we met. You have so much to learn."

A second later, the waiter hurried over with a bottle of their best wine, on the house, of course. And when the food came (arriving before that of patrons who'd ordered prior to Brian's sauntering in), they received the dishes they'd ordered and samples of three others.

Brian grinned. "Now this is how a food critic, and his companion, should be treated!"

Justin shook his head, but he smiled, too.

Brian drawled, "In fact, that chef is hot, and he's got my gaydar pinging all over the place. I bet he'd be grateful for the chance to score some extra points."

Justin looked at Brian in horror. He exclaimed, "Brian! I could never have sex with someone under circumstances like that!" He wasn't sure what horrified him more, the fact that Brian thought Justin needed to use his clout as food critic to get a guy into bed or that Brian thought Justin would ever trade sex for the promise of a good review. Granted, the chef was extraordinarily hot, and Justin probably couldn't get him into bed under normal circumstances, but still.

Brian furrowed his brow. "Why the hell not?"

"First of all, if I couldn't get him into bed without his knowing what I do for a living, I wouldn't want to fuck him."

Brian scoffed, "Power's a turn on. Plain and simple."

Justin sighed. "You and I both know that that's not what you meant. Going to a club and telling some random guy that I'm a food critic to impress him is not the same as hitting on the chef at a restaurant I'm reviewing. You would never fuck an underling at work, would you?"

"The hell I wouldn't."

Justin just gaped at Brian.

"I would tell him that my fucking him would have no impact on his career, but chances are, he'd still want me to fuck him."

Justin sighed in exasperation. "Yeah, but he wouldn't be doing it in the hopes of getting something from you other than sex."

"How do you know that?"

"Just look at you. You could have the lowest-paying job with no power whatsoever and still get laid."

"True. But I probably wouldn't get laid as often. It'd be damn close, but power is fucking hot. And many people, when choosing between getting a promotion from a troll or the best sex of their life from a gas station attendant, would choose the troll."

Justin swallowed hard. So that's what Brian thought…that he was a troll who needed to use his power as a food critic to get laid. He'd pretty much figured the moment Brian had suggested that he fuck the chef, but he'd hoped that he was wrong. Justin couldn't have been more disappointed and hurt. He wanted Brian to want him, to be upset at the thought of his being with someone else. He knew that that was unlikely ever to happen, but with all their talks and all of Brian's compliments, he had thought maybe. "Brian, even if I were the kind of person who would use his position to get a little, which I most certainly am not, I still wouldn't fuck him."

"Why the hell not?"

Justin's chest suddenly felt so tight, and his face, flushed. "I have…uh…feelings for someone, and even though I know nothing will ever come of it, at the moment, he's all I want."

Brian was beyond puzzled. "What does fucking have to do with feelings?"

Justin laughed. "Oh my God. You aren't seriously asking me that, are you?"

Brian said nothing, but held Justin's gaze.

"You have to know that the best sex can only be had with someone you care about!"

Brian continued to stare at Justin. Blankly.

"You seriously didn't know that?"

Brian shrugged. "I've heard people say it, but I always assumed it was because they had no clue what good sex was. People go out of their way to please someone as hot as I am. I just assumed that most people can only get that amount of effort from someone who has feelings for them."

Justin smiled. "Brian, it's not about whether or not people put in extra effort; it's about connection. Being completely in sync with another person. Take two people who are great in bed and you'll get hot sex. Take those same people, only now suppose they're in love, and you'll get phenomenal sex."

Brian muttered, "If you say so," but something about the look in Justin's eyes and the timbre of his voice made him wonder whether he was missing out on something. For a moment, he imagined Justin looking at him with the same expression his face had held when speaking of that other guy. Brian actually shivered. But it was a warm shiver. He couldn't help but keep the fantasy going, imagining Justin kissing him. Slow and deep. Brian shook his head, trying to clear it of his fantasy. It had been relatively chaste, involving nothing more than a kiss, yet it had gotten him impossibly hard.

Later, when he was fucking the chef, his mind kept drifting back to Justin. After they'd finished and Brian had kicked him out, Brian lay in bed smoking, smoking and thinking. Why had he picked up the chef of all people? Sure, he was hot, but so was the waiter and the guy at the newspaper kiosk around the corner from the restaurant. Brian hadn't even picked the guy up while he and Justin were still at the restaurant. No. He had gone back after saying goodbye to Justin. The fuck wasn't, like most, about grabbing the hottest guy in his proximity. In fact, the hottest guy in his proximity, before he went back to the restaurant, was hotter than the chef. No. He had chosen the chef above all other possible tricks because the chef had Justin all over him. Not literally, of course. But still, when he'd whispered into the guy's ear, when he'd brought him home, when he'd kissed him, and when he was thrusting inside him, all Brian could think about was Justin. That realization unnerved him so much that Brian found himself dialing Justin's number, and when Justin picked up, he said, "So tell me about this other guy. What about him makes him unattainable?"

Then before he knew what he was saying, he'd offered to help Justin get his man.


	4. The Phone Call, Part 1

Brian inquired, "So who is this other guy? What about him makes him unattainable?"

Justin nearly choked on his coffee (for Justin, who was a night person, it was more like afternoon). When he managed to breathe again, he exclaimed, "What?"

Brian chuckled. "Unattainable…means impossible to attain…to get…" He pronounced the last two words with a smirking drawl.

Justin muttered, though his voice contained amusement, "Asshole. I know what it means. I was just surprised by the question. You didn't seem too interested in discussing feelings before."

Brian conceded, "In general, I'm not."

"So why the twenty questions?"

Labored sigh. "Two is hardly twenty."

Justin laughed and muttered "Asshole" again, but this time adding a "Fucking."

"I'm still waiting for an answer."

"Oh. Um…" Justin scrambled for something to say. He couldn't exactly be honest, tell Brian that it was he who was spoiling him for all other men. Or could he? Indirectly. Justin replied with the first name he could think of. "His name is Joe. He's…he's beautiful. Perfect."

Brian chuckled. "I'm gonna need a little more."

Justin licked his lips and replied slowly, softly, excitement prickling throughout his body, bringing waves of heat to the surface, "He's tall and lean. He has brown hair with touches of blond and red. His skin is sort of bronze colored. He's strong and kind of muscular, but not in an overdone way."

"Sounds hot."

Justin grinned broadly. "He most definitely is."

Tongue firmly planted in his cheek, Brian asked, "Is he packing?"

Justin giggled. But then answered with faux innocence, "I doubt he carries a gun."

Brian chuckled. "That's not what I meant, but I think you knew that. Just in case, let me make it plainer: Is his cock big?"

Justin knew it was silly (Brian wasn't looking at him, and he was hardly a virgin), but he colored and stammered a little. "Um…I haven't seen it, but from what I can tell, yes…and personality wise…"

"Who gives a fuck about his personality?"

"Um, I do. That's at least half the reason I like him so much."

Brian protested, "All you need to know is whether he's hot, has a big dick, and doesn't talk too much while you fuck him." After a very, very heavy sigh, he said, in a clipped voice, "Fine. Tell me about Romeo's personality."

"He's intelligent, funny, and a little brusque, but I think he feels deeply. (then in amusement) although I'm not sure how perceptive he is sometimes."

Brian quipped, "Well, as long as he can perceive where your dick is when he's sucking it, does it really matter?"

"Of course it does."

"See that's your problem. You shouldn't bother talking to tricks except to say, "Come on" and later, "Get the fuck out."

"Brian! You're terrible."

"I'm not trying to win a popularity contest."

"That's good, cause you'd lose, and badly."

"You seem to like me well enough."

Suddenly, Justin's chest felt tight. "Yeah, I really do."

"So…why don't you just go up to Joe and kiss him or offer him a blowjob?"

Justin shook his head frantically, even though no one could see him. "No. No fucking way!"

Brian drawled, "Why not? You have perfect cock-sucking lips. He'd be a fool to refuse. And after, who knows, maybe he'd take one look at your bubble butt and offer to shove his cock up it?"

"First, I'm not sure he'd be receptive to my advances, with my being…"

"A fatty?"

"Oh my God. You did not just say that!" Justin burst out laughing, though he was mortified, too. There went the hope that Brian hadn't noticed his belly at the restaurant. "And second, I don't want to just be a fuck to him."

"Look, I can probably help you get him to fuck you, but I don't know shit about relationships, and I don't want to."

Justin swallowed hard.

"As I said before, you have a nice ass and lips perfect for kissing or sucking dick…and you have an attractive face. And your eyes are an interesting blue."

Justin couldn't breathe. Part of it was the image that popped into his head of what Brian thought were perfect lips sucking Brian's dick and part of it was the fact that Brian had effectively complimented his eyes. Brian shook his head. When the hell had he noticed the color of Justin's eyes and why the fuck was he telling him about it? Brian pressed on quickly, hoping that his lesbianic slip would be forgotten. "But you're a fatty."

Justin couldn't help but be shocked (and a little hurt) at Brian's candor every time he said that.

Brian continued, "So we'll go to the gym. You'll lose weight. Problem solved. Well mostly. After that, we'll need to go shopping. Get you some decent clothes."

"Brian, there's no way I'm going to the gym with you!"

"Why the fuck not?"

"It would be humiliating, and not just for me."

Brian didn't bother telling Justin that he wouldn't have taken him to his regular gym.

"Is it too crazy to think he might actually like me as I am?"

Brian frowned and said nothing. Not for a solid minute. He was thinking. Then he asked, "Has he noticed you yet?"

Justin sighed. "No."

"Then maybe."

Justin smiled shyly. "Really?"

"Yeah, but you'd have to rope him in some way. You know, get him interested before he's seen you or at least your midsection."

"How do I do that?"

Brian admitted, "Well, you do have a sexy voice. How good are you at phone sex?"

Justin smiled nervously. "I don't know…"

"That can be learned. The harder part is getting him on the phone. I guess we could de-accentuate your midsection and accentuate everything else…take a picture…then create a profile for you. Does Mr. Right frequent any of the hookup sites?"

"Uh…I'm not sure."

"Well, I guess we could make profiles for you on all of them. But you'd need to be very specific about your description of what your dream man looks like, if you don't want to wade through a bunch of trolls."

"Okay. Then what?"

"When, if, he takes the bait, you give him your number before agreeing to meet him. Then you work your wiles on him with that sexy purr of yours (Justin's breath caught in his throat at that characterization of his voice), giving him the best orgasm of his life. Then, when you meet, he'll be more likely to hang around. Amazing orgasms are rare, and even rarer for people who aren't me. My guess is that he'll overlook your flaws if he thinks the sex is going to be amazing."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah."

"But how do I know if I'm good at phone sex?"

"I guess you could show me what you got."

Justin paled. "Oh God! I couldn't!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Wouldn't it be weird? You know because we're friends?"

"It doesn't have to be. Consider me an expert, like a doctor. Doctors don't get turned on when examining their patients."

Justin frowned. Then he sighed. He couldn't help but be hurt by how certain Brian was that Justin couldn't turn him on. But after a moment's hesitation (and contemplation), he smiled a little and said, "Good point. Let me give it a whirl." Justin was suddenly very excited. Maybe Brian's plan for "Joe" would work on him. Maybe he could get Brian hard….and then maybe, just maybe, Brian would desire him, fatty or no.


	5. The Phone Call, Part 2

Brian told himself that he'd do this for Mikey, though definitely not for Emmy Lou or Ted. Of course, deep down, he knew it was a lie. He wouldn't do this for Mikey. When Brian kissed him, he almost never used tongue, and when he did, it was usually to pull him back, if he felt his best friend slipping away. He couldn't deny he liked the bright smile it brought to Mikey's face (and his instant hard-on. Not that Brian would ever do anything about that. He'd thought it might be amusing once, but that had been many, many years ago). So he allowed himself the delusion. Pretending that he would have done this for Mikey prevented him from wondering why Justin was different.

Justin was red with embarrassment, but he was still prickling with excitement, too. He was most definitely not averse to imagining what he would do with Brian if given the opportunity (he'd already fantasized about that very thing on many occasions this week alone). He just needed to pretend that he was narrating a story, addressed to Brian but without Brian present. Yeah, that's it. He could do it. Simple. Right.

Justin took a deep breath, dropped his voice a bit lower, and began, "I'm there with you. I push you onto the bed and climb into your lap." In a near whisper, he continued, "Then I draw my lips softly against yours, just a ghost of a kiss, before plunging my tongue into your very willing mouth."

Brian swallowed hard.

Justin licked his lips. "I slide my hands up your chest and neck, gently tracing your contours with my fingers and then threading my fingers into your hair. I tug on your hair even as I plunder your mouth, all the while grinding my 8-inch cock against your rapidly growing erection."

Brian's eyes widened slightly.

"Then I break away and push you down on the bed, hard, and rip your shirt open. I slide down your body, leaving open-mouth kisses in my wake, stopping briefly to suck and bite your nipples. I slow down when I reach your waist. I look up at you, smile, and then rub your cock through your jeans."

Brian could easily imagine that. Justin's bright flirty smile. Brian had planned to remain silent, after all, this was Justin's show, but he couldn't help himself. He breathed, "So eager for my dick."

Justin shivered. He moved the phone away for a moment so that he could get his breathing under control. Then he replied softly, so softly, "Yes, I am. So eager. But then so are you. I can hear you panting, desperate for my mouth, my tongue. The sound drives me crazy. I remove your jeans, slowly unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging. To my delight, I discover that you aren't wearing anything underneath. But I shouldn't be surprised. You are after all a manwhore, ever ready for a quick fuck. But that's not what I want from you. I want to spend the entire night fucking, only bringing you to orgasm after teasing and tormenting you."

Brian bit the inside of his cheek and slid his hand down to his groin (he was still naked from his encounter with the chef). He drew a finger slowly along his stiffening cock.

Justin paused for a moment and closed his eyes. He moved to the bed, unzipped and unbuttoned his pants, and then lay down. Finally he continued, his voice containing a slight tremble, "I lean down and bury my face in your pubes, just breathing you in, your musky sweetness. Then I move my head upward along your dick, but not touching it, just breathing. The puffs of warm air make your dick twitch, eager for something hot and wet wrapped around it. Soon, soon, that's exactly where my perfectly plump lips will be."

Unbidden, a vision of those lips swam before Brian's eyes; they glistened with saliva. Brian swallowed a soft moan. His dick was rock hard now.

"Once I reach the tip, I grab your cock firmly with my hand and squeeze hard. You moan."

Justin had already thrust his hand down the front of his pants. Now he enacted part of the fantasy, gripping his dick firmly. He swallowed hard and then continued, his voice impossibly huskier, "I swipe the precum off the tip of your cock with the flat of my tongue, drawing it slowly, so slowly over and then around the head and, finally, finally, when your breaths form a sexy staccato, sucking on it. Hard."

Brian grabbed the lube. He slicked his cock with it. He closed his eyes. He knew very soon Justin's hot wet mouth would be on his dick.

"I look up at you again. You are flushed, your eyes dark, burning."

After a pause, he breathed, "So beautiful."

Justin trailed off for a moment. Unbeknownst to Brian, Justin also grabbed the lube (as well as his largest dildo). But he just set them aside for the moment. He wanted to wait until the fantasy reached penetration. But Brian was already stroking his dick. He gripped it hard and stroked it slow.

Justin continued, "Then, I take your huge cock into my mouth, sliding my lips down your shaft slowly even as I swirl my tongue. I slip my hands under your ass, squeezing it and then pulling you up by it as I continued to suck your dick, forcing the tip into my throat and swallowing each time."

Brian unwittingly moaned softly. "Mmmm."

Justin's eyes widened, and he smiled a trillion-watt smile.

He dropped his voice a shade lower. "When I can tell that you're close, I sit up. You growl in complaint. As much as I want to taste you, I want your dick inside me even more. Hearing the noises you make, feeling your cock twitching and throbbing, and your muscles tense in anticipation gets me so hot. My dick is so hard that it almost hurts."

That last part was true.

"I pull my shirt off and then turn around, unbutton and unzip my jeans, and slip them off as I bend over. Before I know it you're sitting up at the edge of the bed, sliding my underwear down and running your hands all over my ass. I gasp when you spread my ass cheeks and draw your tongue along my entrance."

At that, Justin had pulled off his pants and underwear and bent his knees, feet on the bed. Now he started rubbing lube around his hole. Justin closed his eyes and bit his lip in an attempt to stifle a moan. It did little.

"You swirl your tongue around my entrance and then push it inside. Oh fuck! (Justin had just pushed a couple of fingers inside himself. Hearing Justin curse so desperately caused Brian to pant. He quickened the pace of his jerking off.) I want you so badly that I tremble a little."

That last part was also true.

"You pull back and suddenly you are opening me up, stretching me."

Justin paused a moment as he did what he was imagining that Brian was doing. Then he continued, "You shove me to my knees on the floor and push my head down, running your hands up along my back and then down my ass. Then you are gripping my hips so hard I know that you're leaving bruises on my pale white skin, but I don't care. I fucking love it!"

Justin paused again, this time to lube up the dildo and start pushing it inside himself. Justin could barely speak at this point, but he pressed on, in between soft moans, "Now you are pushing your cock inside me. I gasp again, in surprise and pain. But soon the pain gives way to pleasure…"

Brian was totally absorbed by the fantasy. So much so that he no longer held back. He couldn't if he wanted to. He muttered, "Ohh fuck..."

Justin mewled softly as he began fucking himself with the dildo. His voice an urgent whisper, he continued, "You are pounding into me…Oh God, yes! Your hands fisting my hair as you fuck me."

Justin wedged the phone in between his face and his shoulder and brought his free hand to his cock. He started stroking himself even as he continued to push the dildo in and out.

"You're fucking me…fucking me…so hard…so hard and so fast."

As if on cue, a second later, both Brian and Justin exploded. Justin shouted, "Oh Brian…." and Brian grunted loudly. For a couple of minutes, neither spoke. They were both panting hard, their chests heaving.

Justin regained his composure first. He asked softly, though his tone was one of complacency, "How was I?"

Brian swallowed hard and ran his unsullied hand through his hair, now sweaty. Then in a husky whisper, he replied, "Not bad."


	6. Then Came the Waiting

After Brian's 'assessment,' Justin wasn't sure what to say or do. He felt an exhilaration apart from that stemming from the fantastic (no, better than that, sublime) orgasm he'd just had, but he was also tremendously nervous. He didn't want to end the call, and he was afraid that if he did, a discomfort would settle on them both, one that neither would be able to shake off, possibly ending their friendship or whatever. On the other hand, he was desperately afraid of ruining their amazing experience by saying something stupid. So a few seconds after Brian's "Not bad," Justin found himself saying, "Oh shoot! I forgot I had something in the oven, a cake for my little sister's birthday. I'd better go. It's about to burn."

Justin knew that that was one of the lamest phone call-interrupting emergencies in existence, even lamer since it was mostly untrue (his little sister's birthday was coming up, but it wasn't tomorrow, and though he often baked or cooked at night, he hadn't been doing so that evening). Worse yet, it probably just reminded Brian that Justin was 'a fatty.' With that thought, Justin smacked himself on the head. Why hadn't he come up with a sexier excuse? Like the building next door was on fire and he had to go save children and puppies. (Fire fighters were hot!) Justin stifled a desolate sigh.

Brian was relieved, albeit slightly annoyed. He'd needed to get off the phone (he was a little disturbed by his reaction to Justin), but he'd planned on ending the call himself. That's how all his 'sexual encounters' ended. Abruptly and on his own terms. This situation had been a little different, with Justin being a friend, but still, Brian did something similar when he was hanging out with Mikey or Lindsay, and those relationships were not at all sexual. He was always the one with something else, something better or more important, to do. That had always helped to bolster his confidence…everyone was always thrilled that he deigned to give them some of his precious time, and, no matter how coarse or rude he was, they were always clamoring for more. But Brian managed to keep all that out of his tone. Though he couldn't help but add a dig. In an amused voice, he said, "Well, Betty Crocker, by all means, tend to your cake."

"Okay. Later."

"Later."

Then came the waiting.

Day 1

Brian fucked a guy as different from Justin as one could get. A tall, muscular brunet, with tan skin, a lean, lean body, and green eyes.

Justin actually made a cake, German Chocolate, ate half of it, and then did all his errands on foot, walking about five miles in three hours (Justin hated the idea of exercising for its own sake; he liked to combine exercise with chores and errands). When he arrived home, he used a calorie calculator, discovering, to his dismay, that he had probably only burned a fourth of the calories he'd taken in. He took a long shower and jerked off, thinking about the noises Brian had made during their phone call the night before.

Day 2

Brian met Lindsay at the park and watched Gus playing in the sandbox and on the swings until thoughts of Justin crept into his mind: How young was Justin's sister? Had he spent yesterday corralling screaming children at her birthday party? Would Justin and Gus get along? The last thought he had before rushing off to Woody's (after kissing both Lindsay and Gus quickly on the forehead) was "Of course they would. Both my boys (what the fuck??) love to eat, and Justin is sweet and patient." Brian usually avoided blond twinks, but that evening he'd ended up having two. The first had given him a passable blow job (during which he'd been unable to prevent himself from imagining it was Justin's plump lips wrapped around his cock, which was probably why it hit passable; the kid kept grazing his dick with his teeth), and the second had liked it rough, encouraging Brian to shove him up against a wall in the alley and grip him so hard while slamming into him that he left bruises. Brian didn't even say goodbye once it was over. He fastened his jeans and nearly ran (seeing the boy's pale skin darkened with bruises, Brian became conscious of a strong, unsettling desire to similarly mark Justin).

Justin started dialing Brian's number on ten separate occasions, never making it past the fifth number before hanging up.

Day 3

Brian drove past Roy's three times, each time scanning the patrons for blond hair and a thick overcoat.

Justin spent two hours on the computer, trying to find out which company had produced the cell phone ad Brian had mentioned, but to no avail. He thought he could just walk by the building housing the company at which Brian worked, say around noon. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Justin thought dolefully that for an advertising company, it was pretty shitty at advertising its own products.

Day 4

Brian went to Babylon, danced with Mikey most of the night, turning away tricks left and right, until one finally captured his interest. The perfect challenge, or so he seemed. The guy didn't have an ounce of fat on him. He had dark, dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, as well as a huge cock. And he was clearly a top. Brian was almost disappointed at how quickly he agreed to accompany Brian into the back room. When the guy took off Brian's shirt, he smiled and slid his hands over Brian's chest and abdomen. "Perfect. Not like that last guy I brought back here. Blond and beautiful, but his stomach…disgusting. I almost puked. I spent the next couple weeks at Boitoi after that. All the guys there are twigs. No fatties." Brian had been losing his hard on from "blond and beautiful" onward, but he actually flinched at the last word. To everyone's surprise, even his own, he punched the guy, so hard he went flying. The guy yelled, "What the fuck? You're a fucking asshole!" But Brian just shrugged. Brian Kinney, the man who always had a comeback, could think of nothing to say. Except… "Your type is a dime a dozen. Go back to Boitoi if you want to fuck twigs." But he remained silent. He glanced around, glaring, daring the shocked onlookers to talk shit, but most just looked away (some were still hoping to get Brian's dick in their asses or mouths; they shot him suggestive smiles). But all Brian wanted to do was go home and try not to wonder why he had punched that asshole.

Justin had dinner at an Asian fusion restaurant (which served a mixture of Japanese, Thai, and Korean cuisine) and then went home and tried to write his review. The food had been surprisingly unique (and delicious), and the ambience excellent, but he couldn't write a word. All he wanted to do was call Brian. As luck would have it, that's when Brian called him.


	7. Almost, Almost Everything

"Hey."

Justin breathed, "Brian…" Justin couldn't prevent the happiness he felt at hearing Brian's voice from bubbling up in his tone, especially since he'd started to fear that the phone sex had wrecked things between them. But he tried to subdue his excitement somewhat as he added, "Hey."

Brian cleared his throat, trying to sound like someone who was simply doing a friend a favor rather than… he refused to complete that thought. "So…we need to get started on those profiles."

Justin frowned. "Oh…yeah. Right."

"How about tonight?"

"Now? It's a little late, isn't it?"

Brian cleared his throat. "When did you wake up today?"

"Uh…4."

"That's what I thought. I'm the one who'll be losing sleep."

"Um, okay. My place or yours?"

Brian answered quickly. "Yours." All he needed were memories of Justin at the loft to make the haunting complete. As it was, he was going out of his mind.

But once Justin showed Brian inside, he was suddenly less thrilled about the idea of hooking Justin up with this Joe person. So he set his digital camera on the coffee table and followed Justin into his little kitchen, where he was cooking.

"What the fuck are those?"

"Chocolate and Butterscotch Pancakes."

"You're eating carbs this late?"

"I like carbs, particularly in pancake form."

"What are you five?"

Justin grinned. "Are you?"

"What?"

"Somehow I doubt that you deny yourself much…"

Brian shrugged. "Mostly just food."

Justin shook his head. "I don't see why. You're so skinny."

"That's what makes every man's head turn when I walk into Babylon."

"If you gained a couple of pounds, you could still make heads turn. Surely you know that."

Brian just blinked.

"Even if that weren't true, do you really care? You only need one man, one man who loves you more than life and sees how beautiful you are, inside and out."

Brian didn't tell Justin that with him, what you saw was what you got, that there was no glorious inside, only outside. Instead, he muttered, "I don't _do_ love. Love is for…"

Justin arched an eyebrow. "Fatties?"

Brian looked down. "I didn't say that."

"Oh right. I forgot about ugly people."

Brian sighed. "I was going to say lesbians, heteros, and Stepford fags."

"Ah."

Brian clenched his jaw. "But yeah, the overweight and otherwise unattractive kind of have to do love. They have fewer options."

"Why is love so repugnant to you?"

Brian shrugged. "Love is bullshit. People make promises like 'forever,' 'always,' and 'no matter what,' but they don't mean them. They like saying pretty words in the beginning, when the passion is still burning strong and their partner's bad habits haven't yet driven them insane, but look at those same people in three, five, or seven years. Then they couldn't get it up for their partner to save their life and they're ready to shoot him because he snores, doesn't help out around the house, or some other stupid thing. At the end of the day, all people care about is themselves. They say that they love their partner as he is, but they don't; they can't. They love his potential. To keep love alive, you need to become the person your partner imagines you are or could be, some idealized version of yourself. Fuck that. If I ever did love someone, I would expect him to take me as I am. I like tricking; I don't cook, clean, or garden; I don't cuddle; and I don't do dates or other couple-y things, like dinner parties."

"That's why love is so amazing. It makes you want to be a better person. If you ever truly experienced in-love love, I bet some of your defining qualities would change. And the right person wouldn't ask you to be anyone but who you are. You'd just want to."

Brian crossed his arms. "That is very, very unlikely."

"The simple fact that you didn't say impossible tells me that there's hope for you yet."

Justin smiled and thrust a forkful of Chocolate and Butterscotch Pancake toward Brian. Brian grimaced, but then, Justin smiled brighter and begged, "Oh come on. It's yummy." Brian didn't know whether it was because Justin's begging had his dick stirring or because his use of 'yummy' reminded him of Gus, but he found himself opening up. After he'd chewed and swallowed, Justin asked, "Well…what do you think?

Brian shrugged. "Not bad."

Justin felt like screaming, but less so when he noticed that Brian was taking occasional bites (with his fingers). It was even more difficult to find Brian infuriating when he was licking melted chocolate and butterscotch off of his fingers. Every time Brian did so, Justin unconsciously licked his lips. On the fourth bite, Justin's breathing grew shallow. He chose that moment to go wash the pan. If he watched Brian for a second longer, he knew he'd end up in his lap, grinding against him.

Brian was not insensitive to Justin's reaction to him. In fact, inadvisable as it was, he was fanning the flame. He liked knowing that whatever Justin might feel for this Joe person, right here, right now, Justin wanted _him_. Brian smirked and then followed Justin to the sink. He stood right behind him, his groin making contact with Justin's ass, put his arms around Justin, and then slid them into the water, ostensibly to wash off the butterscotch and chocolate on his hands.

Justin just stared at Brian's arms for a moment. This couldn't be happening. He turned and looked up at Brian. He needed to know what Brian was feeling, what he wanted (though Brian's hard cock pressed up against his ass was giving him a clue). His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. He turned around. Brian pulled his hands out of the water and placed them on Justin's back. In Brian's arms like this, their erections touching, Justin couldn't help himself. He reached up and cupped Brian's face. Brian's gaze was hypnotic. So much so that Justin couldn't breathe. He knew he wouldn't be able to until his lips met Brian's. They were his salvation. He pulled Brian down, closer and closer, and then glanced up at him again. For a second, Brian looked scared. But that was forgotten when Justin's desperate desire got the best of him and he brushed his lips against Brian's. Brian couldn't hold back a low moan. He couldn't hold back anything. Suddenly, the glimmer of fear Justin had seen turned into full-blown panic. He removed his hands from Justin's waist and stepped back. Then he turned around and headed for the coffee table.

His chest was heaving. A little breathlessly, he said, "So…so we should get your profiles going. Where's your computer?"

Justin almost cried. His cock was throbbing, and his lips still burned from the momentary contact they'd had with Brian's. Yet he managed to reply, albeit awkwardly, "Uh…over there."

Brian looked back at Justin and then followed the line of his gaze. Catching sight of the computer in the far right corner of the living room, he nearly ran. He only started to relax when he was safely seated behind Justin's desk, which mercifully hid his very prominent erection.

Justin went into his bedroom, though he left the door open so that Brian could still talk to him, and started looking through his closet and drawers for flattering clothes.

"Get in here. I don't know the answer to half these questions."

"I'm looking for clothes."

Brian sighed. A moment later, Brian was standing beside him. Justin had put possible outfits on the bed and was hemming and hawing over them. Brian selected leather pants, a pair of tight jeans, two shirts, and a leather jacket. Justin's eyes widened. "Brian, I can't wear the net shirt."

Brian smirked. "I know how to emphasize strengths and hide weaknesses. Trust me."

Justin frowned. This was going to be unpleasant. He just knew it.

Once they were back in the living room, Brian said, in a growly voice Justin liked very much, "Put these on" and threw Justin the leather pants and the net shirt.

"Here?"

"Where else? Are you a girl? Do you need to change in the bathroom?"

"Uh, I guess not."

But he turned around. This was unfortunate for Brian because he got a clear view of Justin's ass, which was bringing his cock back to life, particularly when it was bent over (Justin was inching the pants up slow; they were very tight). It had taken thoughts of Mel going down on Lindsay to deflate his previous erection. Brian sighed and adjusted himself. When Justin was dressed, he turned to face Brian, making sure to keep his arms over his belly. He was flushed and pale, more so than normal, and he couldn't meet Brian's eyes. Brian approached him and smiled. Justin had a nipple ring. Brian couldn't help but give it a little tug. Then he whispered, "Hot."

The tugging and the whispering made Justin's nipples (and something else) hard. But not for long. Justin had an image of his parents' doing it at the ready (he'd made the mistake of walking into his parents' room one Saturday afternoon without knocking when he was a teenager. That grotesque image was forever seared into his brain). Brian grabbed Justin's leather jacket and helped Justin put it on. Then he zipped it up a few inches, leaving the chest part open. He drawled, "Perfect." Justin knew that Brian was simply admiring his work, but still, he couldn't stop himself from feeling a surge of happiness at Brian's using that word, in that slow sexy voice, in reference to him. He smiled brightly.

Brian snapped a few pictures of Justin standing, leaning, and even bending over, which caused Justin to blush and laugh, particularly when Brian gave his ass a smack. Afterward, Brian had Justin put the other outfit on, a tight pair of jeans and a shirt tight in the shoulders and loose in the waist. Then he took pictures of Justin standing; leaning; sitting in a chair with one leg on the floor and one tossed over the arm, giving potential dates a perfect view of his cock; and sprawled out on the couch. Then on a whim, Brian had Justin take off his shirt, lay it across his belly, and unfasten the top button of his pants. To Justin's great surprise, that picture didn't look half bad.

With all the posing (as well as Justin's shyness and his habit of breaking out into million-watt smiles when he was supposed to look brooding and sexy), time passed quickly. Soon it was 3 in the morning. When Brian realized, he suggested, "Why don't we finish up tomorrow evening?"

Justin wrinkled his nose. "Uh…I'm supposed to babysit my sister tomorrow night."

"Here?"

Justin nodded. "Why don't we do it anyway? I can spring my son from Muncherville. How old is your sister?"

"Seven. Wait, you have a son?"

Brian nodded. "Gus, he's five." One look at Justin's wide eyes, and Brian found himself explaining, "A close friend from college wanted a baby to raise with her lesbian lover. She asked me to be the donor."

Justin was genuinely surprised. Brian's callous view of love and commitment didn't jive well with his being a father. Yet when Justin thought about the way Brian was with him sometimes…gentle and caring…somehow it didn't seem wrong.

"Okay, yeah. Bring him over anytime after 6pm. Molly'll be here by then."

Brian picked up the camera and scrolled until he found the picture where Justin's chest was showing and his pants were unbuttoned. He grinned. "This is the money shot."

Justin flushed with pleasure. Even more so when Brian suggested, "Maybe we should do a second one of these with you just out of the shower and a towel instead of a shirt over your midsection. Little droplets of water sliding down your chest."

Being ogled by Brian gave Justin a rush of confidence he rarely felt. He found himself standing on his tiptoes, leaning against Brian's shoulder, and whispering, "I've been thinking…it might be helpful if you gave me an example of what I should be shooting for when I finally get Joe on the phone."

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

"I mean, you said my phone sex skills weren't bad, but that would suggest that they could be better."

Brian swallowed hard.

"Tonight's probably a bad idea cause it's late, but maybe tomorrow or the next night."

In nearly a whisper, his eyes unfocused, Brian replied, "Yeah. Okay."

After Justin shut the door, he threw himself back against it. He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe I said that! And I really can't believe he agreed!" Then he bounded over to the computer. In less than an hour, he had written perhaps the best review of his life.


	8. Am I Pretty, Daddy?

Brian regretted offering to bring Gus over the second he walked into Muncher Manor. Lindsay was beside herself at the prospect of Brian setting up a playdate for their son, and Mel, likewise stunned, was even more litigious than usual. Lindsay beamed and babbled, and Mel glowered and barked.

Between the two of them, all conceivable questions were asked.

"Who's the trick?"

"He's not a trick; he's a friend."

Lindsay and Mel exchanged puzzled looks. "A friend?"

"Yes, a friend."

"How old is he?"

"I don't know. I didn't check his ID."

"What does he do?"

"He's a food critic."

"Does he have a daughter or a son?"

"Neither. He has a sister who's about Gus's age."

"Did you fuck him?"

"No."

"Do you plan to fuck him?"

This question was met with silence.

Brian didn't know how to answer. His first instinct was to retort, "No, he's a fatty," or "No, he's a friend," but somehow, he couldn't quite get the no past his lips. But a yes was way too premature. Plus, he didn't want Lindsay to think he had some ulterior motive in bringing Gus with him to Justin's. Mel didn't need any more ammunition. Granted, he did have an ulterior motive (he wanted to get Justin with this Joe guy ASAP…or maybe he just wanted to see the little, well, not so little, twat), but they didn't need to know that.

So instead of answering Mel's last question, Brian asked one of his own, somewhat impatiently, "Is Gus ready or not?" That ended the inquisition, for the moment anyway.

Gus had taken to Molly right away. After introductions had been made, she'd said, "Come on, let's play," and he'd followed after her like a little puppy (into Justin's bedroom). He hadn't even shot his father a parting glance. An hour later, the Taylor glamour (which was, apparently, particularly effective on Kinney men) was even more evident. Gus glided out of Justin's bedroom wearing a dress, heels, clip on earrings, pearls, a hat, a feather boa, and makeup. Clown makeup (green from eyelashes to eyebrows and red in circles on his cheeks and lips). Apparently, no one had informed Molly that less is more.

He did a little spin, during which he almost lost his balance, twice, and asked giddily, "Am I pretty, daddy?"

Brian just stared at his son. Justin looked at Gus and then Brian and promptly burst out laughing.

Gus approached Brian slowly (he had to, to keep the heels, which were at least twice as big as his feet, on). When he reached his father, he climbed into Brian's lap and asked again, "Am I pretty, daddy?"

Brian couldn't stop himself from imagining posing that question as a child. He stiffened. His pop would have beaten him to within an inch of his life. Brian swallowed hard. Finally he found his voice. He rubbed Gus's back gently and nodded. Then in a husky voice, he replied, "Very."

Gus rewarded Brian with a bright smile. Brian couldn't help but return it with a soft smile of his own.

Justin had been observing Brian closely during this exchange. He would have given anything to be able to read his mind or even just to ask him questions. But that wouldn't be possible while watching the kids. Instead he offered, in a soft voice, "I'll get him cleaned up."

Brian nodded and helped Gus to his feet (and back into his heels). Brian smiled again when Gus took Justin's hand and allowed himself to be led into the bathroom. As soon as Justin and Gus were out of the room, Molly walked up to the couch, where Brian was sitting, and plunked down next to him. "So you're a boy…"

"What an exceedingly astute observation."

"Are you and Jus friends?"

Brian nodded.

"Are you boyfriends?"

Brian didn't respond right away. He stared at her blankly for a moment before finally inquiring, "How do you know he doesn't have a girlfriend?"

"Silly! Jus told me. He likes boys. Do you like boys, too?"

"Yup."

"Do you like Jus?"

"I kind of have to since we're friends."

Molly sighed in exasperation. But then she smiled brightly. "No! I mean, do you like like him?"

Brian suddenly remembered all the stupid notes he'd gotten in elementary school with a question (Do you like so and so?) and boxes for yes, no, and maybe.

Brian shrugged.

Molly exclaimed hotly, "You suck!"

Brian, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, drawled, "I certainly do."

Molly frowned. He wasn't supposed to agree. They sat there staring at one another for a few minutes, Molly frowning, Brian smirking, until Justin returned with a makeup, dress, and accessory-free Gus (he was still wearing the heels). Justin looked at Brian helplessly. "I swear, I tried. I couldn't get them off him." Brian actually chuckled in response. But he thought it might be prudent to get Gus into karate.

Forty-five minutes later, they were eating pizza and watching a Disney flick. To Brian's dismay (as if the pizza, with pepperoni and sausage, weren't dismaying enough), when told that he could select what they would watch, Gus made a beeline for _Cinderella_. When the duke placed the glass slipper on Cinderella's foot, Gus stared at the screen intently and traced his fingers gently along the heels he was still wearing. And of course, because when it rains, it pours, after the movie, Gus wanted to dance with Molly. He spun her pretty well considering that she was a few inches taller, but he kept falling down when she tried to spin him, no doubt mostly due to the heels he was _still_ wearing. Somehow that didn't make the prospect of being spun any less appealing. Brian sighed. Karate wasn't going to be enough. Nope. He'd have to convince the munchers to home school Gus.

Justin started cleaning up, carrying the plates and the cups into the kitchen. Brian followed with the pizza box and the 2 liter of soda. Once out of hearing range, Brian muttered, "He's magnificent, isn't he? My little dancing queen…."

Justin laughed. "You don't know that he's gay or transgendered. He's only five."

Brian quirked an eyebrow and then turned to look at Gus once more. He was crying happily, "Spin me, spin me!"

Justin cracked up, laughing so hard he nearly dropped the plates.

Brian turned back toward Justin then. Justin was smiling at him, a million-watt smile. Brian's breath caught in his throat. Brian held Justin's gaze for a few moments, but then he swallowed hard and shook his head. "So why don't you jump in the shower?"

Justin colored slightly. Did he smell?

Brian smirked. "For the last picture…"

"Oh…yeah. Okay."

When Brian heard Justin turn the water off, he pulled out his digital camera. That brought a huge smile to Gus's face. He giggled and ran toward Justin's bedroom. He cried out, "The tiara!" His overwhelming desire to be photographed in Molly's tiara rendered him suddenly graceful. However, he got confused and accidentally burst into the bathroom. Brian had been hot on Gus's heels (afraid that he'd crack his head), so he was right behind his son when he swung the door open. Justin was standing on the rug, sliding a fluffy white towel over his midsection. Water droplets rolled down his chest. Brian didn't even look at Gus. He just guided him, his hand on his back, toward Justin's room and muttered, "In there." He was staring at Justin, the camera still in his hand (his other hand). Visions of Brian bending him over the sink filled Justin's mind. He licked his lips. Taking in Justin's mostly revealed naked form, the desperate want in his eyes, and his plump lips, glistening with saliva, Brian flushed and began to pant softly. Justin's cock responded immediately. Brian smirked. Then he lifted the camera to his face. Click.

Justin protested, "Brian! What the fuck?" and let the towel fall over the entire front of his body.

Just then, Gus ran back past the bathroom, tiara in hand, parroting, "What the fuck!"

Brian turned to look at his son. He shook his head. Justin's reaction was a little more pronounced: His eyes widened, and he burst out laughing.

Brian's eyes widened, too, as he turned back to Justin. "I'm telling the munchers it was you."

Justin held Brian's gaze for a moment, but then pushed him out into the hall and slammed the door. Then he threw himself back against it. He was so totally fucked. He couldn't help but obviously drool over Brian every other second, and that was hardly attractive. Yet…he couldn't help but notice how much Brian seemed to want him sometimes, rare though those occasions might be. Maybe he should just confess that there was no Joe and make a move, telling Brian that it was him Justin couldn't stop thinking about. Justin sighed. That would probably ruin not only their friendship but also Justin's chances with Brian. The Joe ruse, weak as it was, was the only thing keeping Brian from bolting. Justin knew that as surely as he knew his own name. So he put his jeans on, grabbed a dry towel, which he held against his midsection, and exited the bathroom. Justin smiled brightly at what he saw. Gus was on his tiptoes (still in the heels) with his arms over his head, on which he'd placed the tiara, his hands joined at the fingertips, like a ballerina. He was smiling brightly and looking at his father expectantly. Brian was smiling a little, too, though he was trying to hide it.

Click.


	9. Phone Sex, Take Two, Part 1

A/N: This is the first half of 'phone sex, take 2.' I put that in quotation marks because the first half ended up being different than I expected. I hope you like it anyway. I'll post the rest soon.

Justin was so excited that he could barely breathe. He was sitting on his bed naked, still damp and warm from the shower, the phone laying next to him. Brian was supposed to call tonight (in just a few minutes) to show Justin his phone sex skills. He kept telling himself that he had to be cool, and, for a minute, he thought he'd successfully calmed down, but when the phone rang, he jumped. Guess not.

Justin folded his hands, threading his fingers together, to prevent himself from answering on the first ring.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

Justin picked up quickly, nearly dropping the phone in his haste, and whispered a breathy hello.

Brian drawled, "Hey Baby, looking for a good time?"

Justin couldn't help but stammer, "Ye-es."

"So…what is it that you aren't getting?"

Justin, confused, asked, "What?"

"You wouldn't be calling me if you were getting what you need at home."

"Oh" Justin laughed weakly. "There is no 'at home.' I don't have a boyfriend."

"Ah. Why not?"

"I've actually only had one boyfriend."

"What was he like?" Brian had no fucking clue what had possessed him to ask Justin about his past sexual history, but, once he had, he was actually eager for an answer, for answers.

"Um…he was a violinist. Well, still is, as far as I know. Very driven and passionate. For a while, I was his muse."

"Hot."

Justin chuckled. "Yeah. It was. But…"

"But what?"

"Well…his friends never really liked me. They thought I was untalented, unintelligent…un-a lot of things."

"Clearly they were idiots."

Justin flushed with pleasure at Brian's protectiveness. Then he sighed. "Yeah. But Ethan didn't think so."

"Ethan's a stupid name for a stupid man."

Justin smiled. But then he sighed again. "No…he's just like every other gay guy."

"How so?"

"He was…I mean…I could tell that his opinion of me fell a bit with each passing day…every time his friends would talk shit about me, but he stayed with me anyway…until…"

"Until what?"

"Until I started gaining weight. That, apparently, was the unforgivable."

Brian felt a twinge…of…something. He refused to define it.

"When did that happen?"

"A couple years ago."

"So…was he the last guy who fucked you?"

Justin blushed. "No! But…there haven't been many since."

"How many?"

"Three."

Incredulously, Brian asked, "Just three? Why?"

Justin closed his eyes and laid back on the bed. He felt…he wasn't sure what he felt. He just…he liked talking to Brian about his sex life, or lack thereof. He liked the idea of telling Brian what he wanted, what he wanted desperately (he was also dying to tell him who, but he knew he couldn't). "I don't know. I mean…I could get laid a lot more, though maybe not in the backroom of Babylon, I just…I don't know. Despite how things were in the very beginning with Ethan and me, the passion didn't just fade; it vanished. Completely, and so quickly…and this was before I started gaining weight. I don't know. In retrospect, I don't think I was ever in love with him…just in love with the idea of him, I guess. I want more. I don't want love without passion or passion without love. I want everything." Justin took a deep breath. Telling Brian this next part was a huge risk, but that made him want to do it all the more. "As pathetic as it sounds, I derive greater satisfaction fantasizing about my dream guy while jerking off than I ever have actually being with someone, anyone, else."

Brian's heart actually stopped beating for a moment. After a long pause, he declared, his voice filled with amusement, "That _is_ pathetic."

Justin huffed a laugh.

"So I gather that the entire attraction to Ethan was his adoration of you."

"Probably. But…I don't know. I don't think that that's a bad thing." Fuck. He hoped it wasn't. "It just…it needs to be based on more than looks. And ideally, mutual."

"Adoration _is_ hot." Brian had always believed this, but even more now, since he'd met Justin. Though he would never admit this (even thinking it made him loathe himself), he wanted Justin to be in awe of not simply his body but all of him, like he was with this Joe person. With each passing day, Brian despised Joe more and more. Who was this guy? What made jerking off to thoughts of him better than actual sex? Whatever Brian told Justin, he didn't actually think that Justin's preference was pathetic. Well, it was a little, but it was also sweet…and kind of hot. The idea of wanting someone so much, so completely, that mere fantasies could bring Justin the best orgasms of his life…Brian hated himself for even thinking this, but he wanted so much to be that object of Justin's affection.

"So how long has it been since you've been fucked?"

"Six months."

Brian was horrified. "Six months?"

"Yup."

"You must be going crazy."

Justin laughed. "No, not really. I have a huge dildo and an incredible imagination."

That Brian knew well (about his incredible imagination). His cock stirred just thinking about that phone call.

"And how long since you've fucked someone else?"

Justin blushed a little. This conversation was becoming increasingly embarrassing, yet he kind of wanted to tell Brian. He had no idea why. Something about being completely open with someone he liked so much, wanted so much, was too tempting to resist. "A year."

"Well, that's just cruel."

"What?"

"As I noted yesterday, you have a huge cock. Not as big as mine, of course. Still, you should be fucking every hot guy who'll bend over for you. As a service to your fellow man."

Justin chuckled. "I'll leave that to you."

Brian dropped his voice low. "Speaking of yesterday, you looked hot in only a towel, still dripping wet from the shower."

Justin flushed with pleasure. He asked nervously, "You think so?"

In a growly voice, the one Justin loved so much, he replied, "I don't say anything I don't mean."


	10. Phone Sex, Take Two, Part 2

Brian drawled, "So…imagine for a little while that I'm Joe…"

Justin smiled, very, very brightly. If only Brian knew how easy that was. But he waited a few seconds before answering (rather than immediately bursting out with a happy 'done') and kept his voice as casual as possible when he finally replied, "Okay."

"Wait…where do you know him from?"

Justin froze. He hoped he didn't sound as nervous as he felt as he inquired, "Uh…why does that matter?"

"It'll help me set the scene."

"Oh okay." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He really should have come up with the story of how they encountered each other immediately after Brian offered to help Justin win Joe's affection. Fuck it. "Um…actually, I first saw him at Roy's."

"Huh. Is that where you meet everyone?"

Justin blushed so furiously he could feel his face grow hot. "I guess I just go there a lot."

"Okay…Roy's…wait, how do you know his name?"

Justin was halfway to panicking. He really wished Brian would stop asking about Joe. "What?"

"Well, if you never actually met him, how did you find out what his name was?"

"Oh…Roy knows him. He told me."

"Oh. Okay. So…I'm Joe…"

Justin laughed happily. "And I'm Justin..."

Brian smiled softly. Justin was so fucking adorable sometimes. Then he shook his head and shifted into sex god mode, drawling, "I noticed you the night you first saw me, noticed your crystal-blue eyes, such a unique color…" Brian grimaced a little; why did he keep doing this shit? Justin had a similarly intense, though different, reaction. His heart stubbornly refused to beat. That was the second time Brian had complimented his eyes.

Brian continued, "…and your plump cherry red lips, perfect for sucking cock…" Now that was more like it, or so Brian thought. Justin certainly enjoyed this second compliment. It caused electric heat to course through his body, setting his very blood on fire. Brian must really want Justin to blow him (He couldn't count the number of times Brian had said that his lips were made for sucking cock). God how Justin wanted to do just that!

"…but I didn't approach you. You played it cool, and so well, that I didn't think you were interested. But then, Roy told me you'd asked about me, so I convinced him to give me your address (let's say he has it because he delivers food to you sometimes). So…one night…I knock on your door. I have to knock three times, but you eventually answer. Once you throw open the door, the reason for the delay is clear. You're dripping wet, with a towel wrapped around your waist. You're so surprised to see me that your towel slips to the floor. Before you can fix it, I get a good look at your perfect ass (you bend over to pick the towel up) and at your stirring cock, which is half-hard by the time you manage to cover it up. I unconsciously lick my lips."

Justin's dick was actually hard at this point, not half-hard, but fully erect. Acting on impulse, Justin whispered, "I step closer to you, drawn as if pulled by some unseen force, nudge your nose, look up into your eyes, and then press my lips against yours."

Brian closed his eyes and moved his hand down to his cock (he was naked and lying on his bed; he had been since before he called). He couldn't help but react to Justin's undisguised, insuppressible want, though it might not be for him. That fact, fortunately, was obscured by Justin's use of 'you' and 'your.' Brian swiped the precum that bubbled up out of his slit with his thumb and started stroking his dick. Then, in a husky whisper, added, "I push you against the doorframe and thrust my tongue into your mouth. Then my hands are tangled in your hair, and I'm kissing you. After a couple of minutes of frantic necking, I pull back. Your lips are swollen and red, slick with saliva."

"My face is flushed, and my eyelids heavy with desire. I want you so fucking much that I feel a hair's breadth away from combusting."

Brian drew his breath in sharply. But then drawled, "I nibble on your bottom lip and slide my hands downward. I rip your towel off and squeeze your ass."

Justin moaned softly. "I want you to fuck me, so very much. God I need your cock."

Brian's cock responded. It twitched and started throbbing painfully. Brian gripped it firmly and squeezed. He bit his lip to stifle a moan.

"I walk you backwards until we reach the couch. Then I spin you around and bend you over it. I kneel behind you and draw my tongue over your hole."

"Mmm…" Justin had grabbed the lube and was rubbing some over his entrance. The fantasy felt so real…

"Then I push my tongue inside. I alternately lick around your hole and fuck it with my tongue, until you are good and wet, ready for me. Then I take out a condom…"

Justin's eyes were shut tight. He had been fingering himself and now had his dildo out. In a voice that barely rose above a whisper, Justin protested, "This is a fantasy. Forget about the condom. Fuck me raw. God, I want to feel your skin on mine as you pound me."

Brian couldn't hold back a deep body moan then. The idea of Justin, ass in the air, spread out so wantonly, begging Brian to fuck him, and raw, was just too much of a turn on. He was now jerking off in earnest. Though slowly. He didn't want to cum too fast, and he was already so close.

In a low, rough voice, Brian said, "I slick my bare cock with lube…"

"Forget the lube. Just fuck me. Fuck me, please."

Oh God (Brian almost came right then…Justin actually begging was too much for him). Brian let go of his dick and quickly ran through his gallery of unsexy things…lesbians…his mother…oh that did it. Taking a deep breath, Brian grabbed his dick again and started stroking it, but very slowly.

Brian began again. "I place the tip of my bare, unlubed cock at your hole and start pushing it inside."

Justin did as Brian described, pushing the tip of his unlubed dildo inside him. Then he cried out, "Oh God. It hurts, but it's such a good pain, holding the promise of your soon filling me up…and the feeling of your skin against mine, nothing in between…" Justin had no words to finish that thought. Instead, he moaned low in his throat.

Brian swallowed hard. "I wait for you to adjust and then continue pushing my dick inside you. Your being unstretched…and there being nothing in between us to dull the sensations…my cock throbs in the most delicious way…I've never shoved my cock in a tighter space. I'm not even sure how long I'll last. I'm halfway to exploding right now."

Justin started muttering then. "Oh fuck…I can't wait! I push back hard, thrusting your cock all the way inside me." At the same time, he pushed the dildo all the way inside him. He cried out and then moaned softly, "Oh yes, fuck yes…"

Brian clenched his jaw in an effort to hold back his orgasm. He whispered breathlessly, "I grab your waist so hard I know I'll leave bruises, but I don't care…I. want. to. mark. you. Then I start fucking you hard and fast."

Justin started pushing the dildo in and out of himself hard and fast. He licked his lips and mewled. "Brian, I can't…I can't…"

"It's okay…cum for me, Justin. Cum for me…"

Justin grabbed his cock and stroked it, just once. Then he was cumming…so hard…he arched his back and pushed the dildo inside him once more. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Brian!"

That did it. Hearing Justin crying out his name in such ecstasy, Brian exploded, with a roar. "Fuck!" Then as his orgasm shuddered through him, he whispered, "Justin…Justin…"

TBC…


	11. The Aftermath, Take Two

Brian and Justin didn't speak for a couple of minutes. They laid on their respective beds trying to catch their breath and slow their heartbeats. When they finally recovered, Brian asked about what he hadn't been able to forget or dismiss since it happened, the question reverberating so loudly in his head.

He smiled and drawled, "Justin?" He was eager to ask his question. He was so sure he knew the answer, and he was dying for Justin to admit it, to admit that he'd been thinking about Brian the whole time they'd been on the phone, not Joe.

Justin smiled, too. He felt so incredible. It was almost a dream come true. Almost. Brian had guided him through an orgasm, a fucking amazing orgasm, and they were still talking, sort of basking in the afterglow together. Justin sighed and smiled again. Plus, Brian had said Justin's name right after his orgasm hit. He'd whispered it, but Justin had heard it anyway. He was pretty sure he would have heard it even if people had been rioting outside or bombs had been going off in his apartment. Justin was already especially tuned into Brian's voice (you know when you are so accustomed to someone's voice that you can single it out of a crowd)…and…Justin wanted so much for Brian to cum with his name on his lips that he'd been on the lookout for it.

Finally Justin answered, "Yes, Brian?"

In a faux innocent voice, Brian said, "You were moaning my name toward the end…not Joe's. Why is that?" Brian was gloating. In this circumstance, how could he not? Brian resented the hell out of Joe, the person who could inspire such devotion and desire in Justin. Though he hated to admit it, he wanted to inspire those things in Justin, more desperately as the days passed. Of course, if questioned about it, he would simply say that it was love with which he took issue, not its application to Joe. He would say that Justin's moaning his name, and not Joe's, was an indication that everyone, even Justin, when choosing between what they loved and what was right there, would choose the latter every time.

Justin laughed nervously and blushed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The truth was, Justin couldn't bring himself to call out Joe's name. He knew he should have done just that. Not doing so was risky…could wreck everything. But…it was a lie, and in the heat of the moment, he wanted to tell the truth. In the heat of the moment, he had to tell the truth. But Justin sure as hell couldn't reveal that to Brian. What he'd done was bad enough. So instead, he replied, as lightly as he could manage, "Oh…I was imagining that it was Joe fucking me, but…"

Brian frowned. He didn't want to believe that Justin had been thinking about Joe. Suppressing his disappointment, he inquired, in a voice filled with amusement, though he was anything but amused, "But…what?"

Justin explained, "But…it's kind of rude to call out someone else's name when you're having phone sex with a person, you know, even if that person already knows, even if that's what they've planned." Justin knew it was weak, but that's all he could think to say.

Brian clenched his jaw. He couldn't keep the slight annoyance he felt out of his voice. "You were just being polite?"

Justin swallowed hard. He really hated lying, especially to Brian. But he forced himself to smile and answer evenly, "Yes."

Brian clenched his jaw again. But then he smirked and drawled, "I don't need such considerations. I don't have feelings to hurt." Despite all Brian's efforts to make his voice sound light, completely unperturbed, Justin thought he detected an edge to it, as though he were lying. As though…he thought he'd caught Justin fantasizing about him and had liked the idea and was now pissed to learn he'd been mistaken. Could it be that Brian was jealous of Joe? He shook his head. No. No, that couldn't be…could it? Justin couldn't help but smile, more brightly than he ever had. It probably wasn't true…but the maybe had Justin so happy that he felt like doing some back flips or a happy dance. The question was, what now? How could he find out for sure? What should he do if it were true? Come clean? No. Justin dismissed this possibility immediately. If, and that was a big if, Brian was jealous, his jealousy was caused by Justin's seeming desire for Joe. So the smart thing to do was to continue pretending…until jealousy drove Brian so crazy that he made his feelings clear. Until they were indisputable. Justin knew that if he laid his cards on the table too soon, Brian might deny everything and bolt. And that was the last thing Justin wanted. As difficult as playing this game was, he was certain it was the only way to get what he wanted so much, that is, Brian to be as desperately in love (and in lust) with him as he was with Brian.

Brian was having similar thoughts. Granted, Justin was a very considerate person. So he might have been telling the truth. But then, again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had been thinking of Brian (Brian wasn't stupid. He knew Justin was attracted to him). The question was, how could he get Justin to admit it (somehow, accomplishing this was suddenly very important to Brian). He told himself it was simply his reputation he was concerned with, but deep down he knew that that was the biggest of lies. So he found himself asking, "Do you want to go to Babylon with me tomorrow night?"

Justin's eyes widened. Suddenly scared (his last visit to Babylon had been so humiliating), he croaked, "What?"

"Come to Babylon with me tomorrow night. I can come over before…help you get ready…"

"Ummm…I don't know."

"Come on, it'll be fun. Besides, there's a good chance your boy will be there."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. If Justin were truly in love with 'Joe,' Brian's saying that he might be there would induce him to go. Justin closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. He couldn't say no. So he feigned an excitement he did not feel. "Okay, yeah! That sounds great!" Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He'd probably get to dance with Brian. His cock stirred at the thought of being so close to Brian, their bodies pressed together, their arms around each other. Justin's breathing was suddenly shallow. He imagined Brian's smell…his sweat…his erection poking into Justin's ass as they danced. Well, he knew what fantasy he was taking to bed tonight…

Brian was also excited about the prospect of taking Justin to Babylon. Brian smiled, his eyes twinkling. Justin wouldn't even remember Joe's name after an hour on the dance floor with him.


	12. Babylon, Part 1

Justin was a wreck. He'd tried on everything he owned, twice, but nothing seemed right. Anything that could be considered clubbing clothes was too tight or just sat wrong on him, making him look like a whale. And he couldn't exactly wear a flannel shirt or a sweater. He'd die of heat exhaustion while also looking stupid. He should just call and cancel. His worst fear was that he'd be an embarrassment. That Brian wouldn't want to be seen with him. He kind of wished he still had the shirt he'd worn the last time he went to Babylon, but in frustration and disappointment, he'd taken a pair of shears to it. He hadn't planned on ever going back to Babylon or anywhere like it.

That's when Brian arrived. He didn't even knock. He just walked into Justin's apartment (Justin hadn't locked the door) and straight into Justin's bedroom. What Brian saw made him laugh, and loudly. Justin was under the covers (his head, too), and every piece of clothing he owned was strewn around the room, on the chair, the bed, the dresser top, the end table, and the floor.

"Come on out, Justin. You have to get ready."

A muffled "Not going" was the reply.

Brian ripped the blanket off of Justin, who was only in his underwear. Justin just barely managed to snatch it back before Brian got another look at his midsection and everything below it. Justin almost cried when he saw how beautiful Brian looked. He was wearing a maroon shirt, half open, which displayed his bronze skin and sculpted chest, and a tight pair of black jeans, which accentuated his huge cock. His hair had a freshly fucked look. Justin swallowed hard. Brian was simply breathtaking. He deserved so much better than Justin. That was when Justin threw the blanket, which had been drawn up to his chest, back over his head.

Brian rolled his eyes. Justin was such a princess. "Here. Put these on. I'll be waiting in the living room."

Once Brian was a safe distance away, Justin peeked at the clothes Brian had laid out on the chair. Curious, Justin climbed out of bed. The shirt was long and loose in the waist, but tight in the chest. It had a V-neck and was a really nice shade of blue, one that matched his eyes. The material was lightweight, but not see through. The pants were dark blue. They were a soft stretchy material. Justin quickly dressed. He examined himself closely in the mirror. The shirt was so long and loose that you really couldn't tell Justin was overweight. Plus, it showcased his neck and chest. Justin wasn't super muscle-y, but he wasn't scrawny (or bloated looking…not there anyway…only in his midsection), either, and he'd been told that he had a beautiful neck. The pants were so comfortable, and they made his ass look incredible. Definitely passable. Justin couldn't trick or dance half-naked, but he didn't look gross. Not in these clothes.

Brian walked in just as Justin smiled at his reflection. He nodded in approval, the smallest of gestures, but one that made Justin's heart soar.

"Let's go."

Justin laughed. "Yes, let's." His enthusiasm had returned. He couldn't wait to dance with Brian.

**********

When Brian and Justin walked into Babylon, everyone's head turned. Justin laughed. It was like he was accompanied by the King of England or some movie star. They walked to the bar, leaving a wake of stares and whispers. Justin felt incredibly special to have been brought by someone who was so universally wanted, but it made him a little uncomfortable, too. He was just like everyone else here, just another man who'd give nearly anything to be chosen, but Justin knew that if they hadn't become friends, he wouldn't stand a chance. He still might not. And…he wanted so much more than to be just another trick. He didn't just want Brian to fuck him. He wanted Brian to love him. And he would settle for nothing less. Justin would be Brian's friend or boyfriend, but nothing in between.

Brian looked around. He didn't see Mikey, Emmett, or Ted anywhere. He breathed a sigh of relief. He'd purposely come a little early so that he and Justin could avoid them. At least for a little while. He wasn't keen to define what Justin was to him.

A little more comfortable, Brian ordered two Beams and handed one to Justin. Justin wrinkled his nose (very cutely, Brian thought), but drank it anyway. Brian laughed at the face he made after swallowing. He wisely decided on beers for the next round. A few minutes later, Justin and Brian were standing at the bar drinking the aforementioned beers when a man with a buzz cut strode, no stomped, over to Brian. That in itself was strange. Brian had never seen a gay man walk this way…very aggressive and animal-like. Panther-like he'd seen on occasion, in fact, most would describe Brian's walk as being of this variety, but the animal this man called to mind was a gorilla. Brian's cock immediately began to stir. From his haircut to his gait and carriage, Brian surmised that this was a military man. He would perhaps pose the greatest challenge Brian had ever faced. Danger and violence swirled around the man like an aura. If Brian could top him, without getting his ass beat or dying, the rush would be unfathomable. Maybe the best he'd ever experienced. Maybe the best he would ever experience.

The trick walked right up to Brian, looked him up and down, smirked, and then snarled, "Let's fuck."

Brian unconsciously licked his lips. Close up, Brian could see that, although of medium height, several inches shorter than Brian, the guy was built. He looked slight, but he was all muscle. Fuck, he was probably vise tight. Brian let out a low growl. He would rip him in two, and the trick would love it so much (Brian would make sure of that) he'd be begging for more.

Justin's heart sank lower and lower as each second ticked by. Brian clearly wanted this man. Wanted to possess him. And Justin couldn't blame him. Justin had been to Babylon before. So of course, he had known Brian by reputation long before they had met. The moment Brian had introduced himself, he had known. Justin hadn't mentioned this to Brian mostly because he didn't like gossip. He didn't like making assumptions about people. But if his reputation were any indication, Brian was a predator who liked topping tops best. According to the scuttlebutt, Brian would fuck anyone hot, but he preferred a challenge. He liked to pursue men who usually did the pursuing, to bend them to his will (by actually making them bend over for him) using his beautiful lithe form, his growly voice, his intense hazel eyes, and his reputedly huge cock. If all that were true, this potential trick must be irresistible. Justin sighed. He should have known better than to come to Babylon with Brian. It was filled with gorgeous men, _thin_ men. Men who wouldn't touch Justin with a ten-foot pole. And Brian was the sexiest, most beautiful of all. Why would he want Justin if less sexy, less beautiful men did not?

Brian was all set to agree to the man's proposal. But then he remembered Justin and glanced over at him. Justin was smiling, but his eyes were dim. He even urged Brian on, and cheerfully, "You should. He's…he's hot," though Justin's voice faltered a bit halfway through.

But then Brian felt a twinge…something was tugging at him, making his chest feel hollow. It was stupid. Brian and Justin were just friends, and Justin was in love with that Joe guy. Yet somehow, Brian couldn't dismiss the twinge, the tugging. Somehow he knew that whatever Justin said…whatever Justin purportedly felt about Joe…that Brian's tricking, here and now, would wound Justin. What Brian found most perplexing was that he cared.

Brian also knew that if he indulged, he wouldn't accomplish his goal of making Justin forget Joe, not now, maybe not ever. Brian laughed. He was officially insane. He had to be. To turn away such a rare treat, the toppiest of tops, but to both Justin's and the trick's surprise, that's exactly what he did. He shook his head and said, "Not interested." When the trick didn't leave right away, Brian growled, "Fuck off already!" The trick muttered, "Asshole" and actually pushed him before storming off.

Justin watched the trick leave and then looked at Brian in wonder. He stammered, "Brian…I…I don't understand. Why did you refuse him?"

Brian couldn't explain what he didn't understand himself, so he said simply, "Let's dance."

Justin smiled again, but this time, a million-watt smile, and this time, it reached his eyes. Brian couldn't help but return the smile.

Yup. He was well and truly fucked.


	13. Babylon, Part 2

Brian pulled Justin by the shirtsleeve to the middle of the dance floor and then into his arms. Justin slid his hands around Brian's neck, slowly, tentatively, all the while looking into Brian's eyes a little shyly. Soon he was falling into Brian's hazel depths as though in a trance.

Brian did not have Justin's compunctions. He slid his hands around Justin's waist and then immediately down to his ass. Justin blushed prettily. Brian then squeezed Justin's ass. He liked that he made Justin nervous. And nervous Justin was. Being in Brian's arms, so close to him, with Brian's hands on his body, more specifically his ass, Justin was on fire. Brian pulled Justin's groin flush against his and leaned his forehead against Justin's. Justin shivered and closed his eyes. Brian tangled his fingers in the blond's longish hair. Just then Justin's eyes fluttered open. The look therein actually stopped Brian's heart. Justin's eyes were dark and intense. Brian had the strange feeling that Justin could see right through him then, perceiving things of which Brian was only half aware. Brian swallowed hard and then traced his fingers lightly along Justin's neck. He had the softest skin. Justin drew in a shuddery breath and leaned into Brian, burying his face in Brian's neck. He just needed to be…closer. To feel more intensely the warmth of Brian's skin, to be enveloped in his scent. Similarly motivated, Brian let his hands slip to Justin's shoulders, and he leaned his cheek against Justin's head, just breathing Justin in.

Justin's body was all a tingle. He kept telling himself just to enjoy the feeling of being so close to Brian, to remember for later, when he could jerk off a few times, but doing so was quite difficult, especially after a couple of drinks. In this moment, he wanted Brian more than he had ever wanted anyone or anything, so much that he thought he might explode, or cry. What the fuck had he been thinking when he had agreed to come?

Justin looked up at Brian, his face flushed, his lips parted slightly. Seeing Justin like this, so obviously turned on, Brian experienced a mixture of feelings. He was hard, and had been since a couple minutes after they'd started dancing, but that wasn't so strange. Brian was a very sexual man and extraordinarily responsive. And…he wouldn't broadcast this, but he'd be hardpressed to deny that, whatever Justin's physical flaws, Brian was attracted to him. Their almost kiss (a gentle brush of their lips) and the two phone sex calls had proven that. Course, that wasn't saying too much. He was attracted to a great many men. But when Justin looked up at him with those big blue eyes, which held the keenest vulnerability, need, and want, Brian was sort of struck. Suddenly faint and flushed. What he wanted most then wasn't Justin's lips around his cock, though Justin had incredible lips, or to be buried in Justin's ass, though Justin had a perfect bubble butt. What he wanted most then was just to feel Justin's lips pressed against his own. To thrust his tongue into Justin's mouth. To kiss Justin until he was moaning and breathless.

Yet despite all this, Brian couldn't help but feel sort of vindicated by what he saw in Justin's eyes (though, truth be told, Justin had done nothing wrong, except want someone else more than he wanted Brian). That ended up being the feeling Brian acted upon (few who knew Brian would have been surprised by this; he was full of pride and vanity, and most could see nothing inside him beyond these two qualities). He smiled, his eyes bright. Yes, seeing Justin like this was a vindication, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. So Brian licked his lips as he traced Justin's gently with a finger. Brian smiled a little more brightly when Justin shivered in response to Brian's gentle touch. Then he spun Justin around and pulled the blond back against him roughly. He placed his hands on Justin's waist and started grinding against him as they swayed. Then he nuzzled Justin's neck. They were so close that Brian could actually hear Justin's erratic breathing. Brian wouldn't admit this, even under pain of torture, but he was so turned on then that his cock throbbed painfully, and he was beginning to fear that a little more grinding would do him in, possibly causing him to cum in his pants.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it, Justin was in a similarly awkward position. So after making it through just three songs, Justin abruptly stepped out of Brian's arms. Breathlessly, he sputtered, "I…I have to go." Then he headed for the door, so quickly he was almost running. Brian considered remaining where he was, finding a couple of tricks and letting them relieve him of his now painful erection. He knew that that was the smart move. But somehow he found himself chasing after Justin instead, a move that surprised not only him but also Mikey, Emmett, and Ted, who, unbeknownst to Brian, had arrived at the club a few minutes before Justin rushed out (It would have surprised pretty much anyone who'd ever interacted with Brian). The one person it did not surprise was Justin. So when Brian caught up with him and grabbed him by the shoulder, Justin knew exactly who it was. He knew the kinder, gentler Brian, the man who, despite the slight nausea it had caused him (he generally disliked overly feminine men), had told his five-year-old son he was very pretty to make the boy smile; the man who had offered to help Justin gain 'Joe's' affection, though he was not even slightly the romantic type; the man who had seen the parts of Justin that were beautiful, outside and in, despite the fact that he was overweight; the man who had turned down a trick he clearly wanted because he was with Justin.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Justin froze and whispered, "Brian." He let his head fall and turned around slowly. He was so embarrassed by his behavior. He couldn't even look at Brian. Brian was feeling something similar. He wouldn't call it embarrassment or guilt… he wouldn't have been able to give it a name at all, but he was suddenly no longer eager to tease Justin until he 'cracked' and admitted that he wanted Brian more than Joe. He just wanted Justin to be okay. To smile again. What he didn't want was Justin to run from him, for the night to end. So he smiled softly and asked, "Are you hungry? We could get some take out from Roy's and go to your place."

Justin was so relieved and happy that he had to blink back tears. He nodded. "That sounds great."


	14. Safe Is A Relative Term

As soon as Brian and Justin arrived at Justin's apartment, Brian asked, "Would you mind if I took a shower? I'm a little sweaty from Babylon."

Justin was actually a little excited by the prospect of a naked Brian in his apartment. But he tried to keep his voice light as he said, "No, go ahead."

Justin figured that he would unpack the food while Brian was in the shower. However, a couple minutes after Brian had headed to the bathroom, Justin realized that he'd forgotten to give Brian a towel. He grabbed one from the linen closet and headed to the bathroom. He was just going to reach into the bathroom and put the towel on the counter, but then he caught sight of Brian naked (in the mirror; he had a see through shower curtain). Justin knew it was wrong to stare, but he couldn't look away. Brian had his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Rivulets of water flowed down his bronze sculpted chest, down to his (Justin guessed) 9-inch cock. It was half-erect. Justin unconsciously licked his lips. He did look away then (well down at his feet). He was suddenly flushed and his breathing, shallow. The second he lowered his head, Brian opened his eyes. He caught the movement in the mirror in his peripheral vision. Realizing that Justin was watching, Brian decided to put on a show. He couldn't help himself. Deep down, maybe not so deep down, he wanted Justin to want him, wanted Justin to desire him above all others. He kept his eyes forward. He didn't want Justin to know he was aware of his presence (then surely, Justin would rush off in embarrassment). He grabbed the soap, lathered up his hands, and slid them over his cock. That's when curiosity got the better of Justin, and he raised his head once more. He was so surprised by what he saw that he dropped the towel, which hadn't quite made its way into the bathroom yet.

Brian started stroking his cock, with both hands, but then sent one down to his balls. When he was so hard that his dick ached, he grabbed the soap, relathered, and slid his hands over his chest, over his nipples, pinching them gently, and then down his abdomen. Justin's cock was hard now, too. It throbbed and ached. God he wanted to be the one touching Brian's beautiful body.

Suddenly Brian turned around and called out, "Hey Justin! Could you come here?"

Justin picked the towel up quickly and after a few seconds, entered the bathroom. He set the towel on the sink, and asked, "What is it, Brian?"

Brian turned a little, so Justin could get another look at his cock, still hard, and then turned away again (he smiled; Justin was bright red now). Brian reached through the curtain with the soap and inquired, "Could you soap up my back?"

Justin was close to panic. "What?"

Brian asked again, as nonchalantly as he could, "Could you soap up my back? I really don't want to get backne." He fake shuddered.

Justin bit his lip, but then replied nervously, "Um…okay."

Justin took the soap and thrust his hand (with the soap) into the shower to wet it. He lathered up his hands and set the soap on the tub's edge. Finally, he placed his slightly shaky hands on Brian's back, near his shoulders, and started rubbing. As he washed, he traced every contour, every muscle with his fingers. Brian shivered. He let his head fall. Justin's touch was so gentle, yet firm, and his hands, his fingers, were everywhere. On his shoulders, on his upper arms, on his back, and on his lower back, just shy of his ass. Brian suddenly wondered how Justin's hands would feel stroking his cock. Would they be as gentle? As firm? As thorough? Justin had been washing Brian's back for several minutes when he realized he'd passed all bounds of decorum. He immediately pulled his hands away.

"All done" he said with a shaky voice.

Brian turned around. "Thanks." He smiled when he saw Justin's eyes, trained on his cock, widen slightly. Justin swallowed hard and then turned around. "Umm…I brought you a towel."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Sure."

Justin departed. Once Justin closed the door, Brian finished jerking off. He had to bite his lip so hard he drew blood to keep from moaning loudly when he came.

A few minutes later, Brian emerged wearing only jeans. Justin looked at Brian, at his still damp chest and Brian's waist (the top button of his jeans was undone), and sighed. Tonight was going to be a long night.

After they ate, they started watching an old Marlon Brando movie they'd found while flipping through the channels. Justin fell asleep halfway through, his head resting on Brian's lap. Brian watched the rest of the movie alone, periodically running his fingers through Justin's hair.

When it was over, Brian gingerly moved Justin's head from his lap onto the couch. Then he lifted Justin into his arms and carried him into the bedroom. He laid Justin on his king-sized bed and carefully removed his shirt and pants. He couldn't resist sliding a hand down the curve of Justin's neck, down his chest, and over his belly. Brian didn't flinch or grimace. All he could think was that Justin was still beautiful. That he still wanted to fuck the blond, and, though he would deny this to anyone who asked, badly. Brian smiled wickedly and ran a finger over Justin's cock, through the fabric of his underwear. Justin moaned softly, and his cock jumped.

Brian decided that it was too late to drive home…that he'd just stay there. So after slipping Justin under the blanket, he climbed into the bed and joined him under it (the blanket; he'd wisely kept his jeans on). A few minutes later, Justin rolled over into Brian's arms. Then he started (like he was surprised) and opened his eyes. He looked directly at Brian, into his eyes, and breathed, "Brian." Then he grabbed Brian by the face with both hands, pulled the man roughly to him, and thrust his tongue into Brian's mouth, kissing him deeply. Brian slid his hands to Justin's ass and pulled him closer even as he kissed him back. Justin's soft lips, the way he smelled and tasted, the passion with which he kissed Brian…all these things drove Brian wild and scared the shit out of him. Then Justin broke their kiss and nestled himself snugly in Brian's arms. It was as if he'd been asleep the whole time. Brian, breathless, chest heaving, and flushed, just stared up at the ceiling. He would need to put distance between them. He didn't like the way that kiss had made him feel. He had liked the way it had made him feel physically (of course), but not the rest. Justin moaned softly and snuggled closer. Brian swallowed hard and held him tighter. Tomorrow. Brian would start putting distance between them tomorrow.


	15. Morning, Part 1

Justin woke up in bed alone. He sat up and glanced around. He gasped a little when he pulled the blanket off and found himself in only underwear. He didn't even remember going to bed, let alone stripping down. And he usually slept on the right side, but he was on the left. The last thing he could recall was…watching some old movie with Brian. Justin's heart leapt. Had Brian carried him in here? Justin's eyes widened, but then he laid back down and ran a finger from his waist along his bare chest to his neck, a shy smile on his face. Had Brian removed his clothes? Justin smiled even brighter, imagining Brian touching him…looking at his naked body. Suddenly, Justin's chest constricted (and he sat up again). Brian had seen him almost completely naked…nothing hiding his flaws, well flaw. Justin sighed and hung his head. No wonder Brian had left. He'd probably taken one look at Justin's ginormous belly and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Justin let himself fall back onto the bed, arms out, brow furrowed, but then, suddenly, he smiled and pulled the blanket back over him. He'd had the most vivid, most wonderful dream last night. In it, he'd kissed Brian…and Brian had kissed him back, so eagerly. In fact, Brian had crushed Justin's body against his, pulling him so close and kissing him so deep. He had even grabbed Justin's ass.

Justin heaved a contented sigh. All around, yesterday had been amazing. So fucking amazing. Brian had turned down a trick because they'd come to Babylon together, they'd danced (Justin had buried his face in Brian's neck, and Brian had slid his hands all over Justin's body…his neck, his shoulders, his waist, and his ass. Brian had even nuzzled his neck and grinded against him), and, later, Justin had seen Brian naked, wet, and hard (and he'd touched him, sliding his soapy hands up Brian's back, along his shoulders, and then down, down, down…to just above his crack. Justin's hands automatically strayed to his groin then. He slipped his hand into his underwear, gripping his dick firmly and then squeezing it hard. Just remembering last night had Justin so close to orgasm that he moaned (and loudly). Then, he started stroking his dick, and, his voice a breathy whisper, he moaned, "Fuck me, fuck me, Brian. Yes, yes, harder, oh harder…"

Just then Brian appeared in the doorway. He was wearing jeans and nothing else. Justin's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Brian barefoot and bare chested. Brian asked nonchalantly (Justin had no idea whether it was feigned), "Did you call me?"

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized that that was really Brian, that Brian was here and Justin had his hand on his dick, that he'd been masturbating to thoughts of Brian and even calling out his name. He turned crimson. "Uh…hi…I mean, good morning, Brian. I…I wasn't sure whether you were still here, so I called."

Brian nodded slowly (again, Justin couldn't tell whether Brian were mocking him). "Yup. Still here. I'm making coffee."

Justin nodded and replied, as evenly as he could manage, "Oh cool." But he still hadn't moved. He was so very glad that he'd pulled the blanket back over him when he had laid back down the second time.

Brian stared at Justin blankly for a moment. Then he laughed. "Are you planning to get up anytime soon?"

Justin stretched (moaning a little as he did so). "Yeah, just give me a couple of minutes. I need to wake up."

Brian looked at Justin like he was nuts, but he retreated into the kitchen. Justin pulled his hand out of his underwear and then rolled over and groaned into his pillow. His brain was going a mile a minute. Had Brian heard what he'd moaned? Or just his name? Could he see Justin's hard on through the blanket? Did he wonder where Justin's other hand was? This situation was so fucking humiliating.

Unexpectedly, Justin rolled over onto his back, his eyes wide once more, but a smile now creeping across his lips. If Brian was still there, then that meant he'd stayed over…that he hadn't fled in horror after undressing Justin. It meant that…(Justin looked over at the rumpled sheets and the dented pillow on the right side) instead Brian had crawled into bed with Justin. Justin's heart was suddenly beating so hard in his chest, and he was having difficulty breathing. That had to mean something, right? Brian could simply have slept on the couch…or gone home…Justin would have doubled over then (if he'd been standing): Had Brian held him?

Justin didn't know the answers to any of his questions. But contemplating them was only making his hard on worse. So he started thinking about the girl he'd kissed when he was still confused (back when he was 15). He remembered her pushing his hands up to her breasts. His stomach turned. That did it. His cock was suddenly flaccid. Justin took a deep breath and jumped out of bed. He threw on shorts and a baggy T-shirt and headed into the kitchen. He'd gotten as many answers as he was going to get from the bedroom.

********

Brian had no idea why he was still at Justin's. After the kiss last night, he'd decided that he needed to put distance between them. But ever since he'd waken up holding the little twat, he'd been telling himself that that would be unfair to Justin, that it would hurt him. Deep down (maybe not so deep down), Brian knew that was an excuse (the truth was, when Brian's eyes had first fluttered open and lighted on Justin, he'd smiled, fucking smiled, and pulled Justin closer; he'd even nuzzled Justin's neck before finally disentangling their arms and legs and crawling out of bed). In fact, Brian's excuse was almost as troubling as his need for one. Since when did Brian-Fucking-Kinney give a shit about feelings, his or anyone else's (except Gus's)?

Brian didn't know. He also had no fucking clue why he was making coffee as he waited for Justin to wake up. Brian hated that he had known where to find the coffee and coffee filters…and the mugs. He hated that he felt so damn comfortable here, comfortable enough to walk around in jeans and nothing else. He'd even gone down to the newsstand on the corner for a newspaper and had started reading it in the living room. The fact that he remembered that there was a newsstand nearby and that he was content to spend his morning at Justin's was slightly disturbing, but what was even more disturbing was that he'd dressed for his foray outside and then had stripped back down to his jeans when he'd returned to the apartment. Perhaps more disturbing yet…he'd known where Justin kept his extra key (whatever Brian had said to the contrary during their second phone sex call, Justin's door locked automatically, so Brian had needed to grab the extra key from beneath the second potted plant (from the left) to open the door).

This relationship was getting way too domestic. That fact wouldn't have troubled Brian so much (Brian was almost as comfortable at Mikey's) except that he could no longer deny (to himself at least) that he wanted to fuck Justin. And…not just once.

TBC…(soon)


	16. Morning, Part 2

When Justin entered the kitchen, Brian, who was pouring two mugs of coffee, began moaning softly, "Fuck me, fuck me…Yes, yes, harder, oh (he held this syllable for a few seconds) harder (his voice broke on this word)…"

Justin blushed deeply, let his head fall, and squeezed his eyes shut. Brian smirked, put the coffee pot back on the burner, and moved behind Justin. He slid his arms around Justin's waist (causing Justin to jump a little and Brian's eyes to dance) and leaned his cheek against Justin's. Justin was an even brighter red now, but only partly due to shame. Brian whispered (against Justin's neck), "Who were you thinking about when you had your hand on your dick? When you were stroking it and moaning?"

Justin wondered how it was possible that he didn't know…how could he have heard every word but his own name?

Brian prodded, "Joe? Or someone else?"

Feeling Brian's lips (and the warm puffs of his breath) against his skin and hearing the huskiness in Brian's voice, Justin shivered.

Brian continued, his voice dropping a shade lower, "Who is it that you want to fuck you?"

Unexpectedly, Brian spun Justin around then so that they were facing each other. Justin was panting, his eyes open now, but directed toward the floor. Brian lifted Justin's chin slowly with a finger until their eyes met. Justin's held a curious expression…a combination of surprise, excitement, and fear.

When Brian had started teasing Justin, that's all it was. Teasing. And not just teasing, but teasing Justin (as opposed to himself). He wanted to see the blond blush and maybe even hear him stammer. Embarrassing Justin like that always gave Brian (and his cock) a thrill, but now, seeing Justin blushing, panting, and trembling a little…leaning so close to him that he could feel the heat coming off Justin in waves…so close to his perfect lips…so plump and cherry red, he suddenly forgot all about his initial goal. In this moment, all Brian wanted was to feel Justin's lips (and body) crushed against his, to taste him again, to squeeze his luscious ass again, to fist his silky blond hair again.

Brian licked his lips and leaned a little closer. In response, Justin drew his breath in sharply and then licked his lips, too. His eyelids drooped. His cock was so hard again, achingly hard, maybe harder than it had ever been. In this moment, all Justin wanted was for Brian to kiss him, like in his dream, but he was so scared. Even terrified. He never knew when Brian was just teasing him. Justin wasn't stupid, and he'd have to be to believe that Brian thought of him in only a platonic way. He had seen Brian's cock swell (Brian wore such tight pants all the time), on more than one occasion after touching Justin, and he knew that Brian had been jerking himself off during both their phone sex calls. But…Brian still hadn't made any real move. Was this it? Would Brian finally kiss him? Would Brian want to fuck him? Just thinking about the possibility (imagining himself bent over the couch, Brian thrusting into him sinuously), Justin shivered (a full body shiver). His eyes fluttered closed and then open again.

Brian leaned in even closer. Justin couldn't hold back a soft moan. But it was somewhat muffled when Brian's lips reached Justin's. Brian's hands went immediately to Justin's ass and Justin's into Brian's hair. They both pulled each other closer by the respective parts they were holding, while also thrusting their tongues into the other's mouth. There was no pause…a second after their lips touched, their tongues were struggling…not for dominance. Just for more…for more of what set their bodies on fire…for a deeper connection…Brian and Justin were ravenous for something that could not sate but only stoke their desire.

Then Justin was fumbling with Brian's jeans, struggling to unbutton and unzip them, desperate to feel Brian's erection, to stroke the man's dick (He kind of wanted to drop to his knees and suck Brian off, but he was too nervous. Plus, he never wanted the kissing to end, one because it was sending heat and electricity coursing through every part of his body (causing him to feel all melty and floaty) and two because he couldn't keep this going if Brian looked at him. He would be so embarrassed and unsure of himself if he felt Brian's penetrating gaze on him. He didn't want to answer questions (like what does this mean? or what does this say about your feelings for Joe?), not his own or Brian's. He knew that he would respond way, way too honestly right now. He would exclaim, "It means that I'm falling in love with you…that I want you more than I've ever wanted anything…Joe doesn't exist; he never did. I just didn't have the balls to tell you I wanted you...that I liked you."

When Justin's hand finally found Brian's cock, he squeezed it tight, causing Brian to moan into Justin's mouth, swiped the precum off the tip, and then started sliding his hand along the shaft. Justin gasped (and almost, almost broke their kiss) when he felt Brian's hand sliding into his shorts and then on his cock. And when Brian began to jerk him off, the heat and electricity intensified to such an extent that he felt dizzy.

And Brian…he was taken aback. He was so surprised by the intensity of Justin's passion, Justin's want, and his own, as well as the plain old happiness he was feeling, that it was like all his filters and walls had been temporarily deactivated. At the moment, he didn't have the brain capacity to judge anything, not even himself. Not really. He merely observed, with unusual detachment, that he'd never before kissed anyone this deeply or this long, that he hadn't jerked anyone off or been jerked off by anyone since high school, and that he'd never been more turned on in his life. He also noted that Justin had been the first one to take their make out session to a new level and that that made him happy, even ecstatic. Justin clearly wanted him. So much that not even the mention of Joe could stop him from indulging. To that, his only response was the observation that that knowledge caused his chest to ache a bit…and some hole inside him to shrink…some part of him to feel less empty.

Then they were both cumming and kissing each other even more desperately. Only when their orgasms had ceased shuddering through them did they break apart, but only for a second, long enough for their arms to slide around each other, for them to fall together in a cum covered, sweaty heap (though they were still standing). They held onto each other tightly, so tightly, neither knowing what would come next, what they wanted to come next. They were spared this consideration, this decision, by the shrill ringing of the phone. Justin pulled away and then just stood there for a second, his mouth open slightly, as though he might say something, his eyes wide and afraid, but no words came. Brian smiled softly then, his eyes twinkling, which caused Justin to relax and smile back. Then he went to answer the phone. It was a telemarketer. Justin didn't say anything. He just hung up. Then he went into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes, wiping the cum off with them. He then put on a new pair of shorts and a new T-shirt and grabbed sweats he thought might fit Brian, as well as a washcloth, which he dampened. When he returned to the living room, Brian was standing right where Justin had left him, only now in only a thong. Justin blushed a little and handed Brian the washcloth and the sweats.

Then he muttered, "I'm sorry."

Brian drawled, "Sorry's bullshit" and smiled. Then he cleaned up and dressed. Unsure what he should do or say, Justin sat down at the computer and turned it on, but then got up to get the cup of coffee Brian had poured him. When he returned, Brian was at the computer. He had a browser open.

He asked, "When's the last time you checked your email?"

Justin shrugged. "I don't know. Two or three days."

"You have 75 new emails."

"What?"

"All from the dating Web sites where we posted your profile."

Justin didn't speak. The last thing he wanted to think about was their plan for Justin to snag the imaginary 'Joe.'

Brian was quickly skimming through the emails. Justin just stood behind him, drinking his coffee, hoping Brian would soon lose interest. After a few minutes, Brian stated woodenly, "Looks like you got your man."

Justin's head shot up, and he nearly choked on his coffee (he'd been taking a sip when Brian had spoken).

Brian asked, the tone of his voice unreadable, "This is him, right? Joe. Tall and lean. Brown hair. Golden skin. Strong and somewhat muscular. Decent sized cock."

Justin's eyes widened. A man named Joe of that description had indeed emailed him. Justin still hadn't recovered the power of speech. He could only gape.

Brian continued, again in that unreadable tone, "Wow. He sounds perfect for you. He's a chef at some fancy French restaurant downtown. He's 'a snuggler.' And he's 'had his fun.' Now he 'wants to find Mr. Right and settle down.'"

Justin closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He only had one thought, "No, no, no, no, no, no…"

TBC…(please let me know what you think of the first-middle part...I spent so long working on it...and I'm dying for feedback)


	17. Barney Inkin

Justin had no idea what to do. He didn't want to lie to Brian by saying that this guy was _the_ Joe, but the guy fit the description Justin had given Brian perfectly. Surely Brian would be suspicious if he said that this Joe wasn't the right one. Plus, he didn't want the sudden appearance of a Joe to ruin their budding…whatever the hell it was. Justin managed to put off saying anything by suddenly crying out, "Fuck! I was supposed to meet by mom for breakfast!" He asked Brian whether he'd like to accompany him because he felt sure Brian would decline and decline he did. Brian put his shirt, shoes, socks, and coat on, opting to wear Justin's sweats home (Justin offered to wash Brian's jeans). Then he walked Brian to the door. On an impulse, Justin hugged the man, pulling Brian into his arms, burying his face in Brian's neck, and holding him tight. He even whispered, a little shyly, "Before…was…fucking amazing." Then he pushed a stunned Brian out the door so he could "get ready."

Justin spent the next few hours doing chores. If he was going to obsess about what to do now that a Joe had emailed him (and after their hot make out/jerk off session), he'd at least have a clean apartment. When he'd cleaned and organized everything he could possibly clean and organize, he sat down at the computer. The page with his email on it was still up. Only now he had yet another email from one of the dating Web sites. Justin's first impulse was to close the page, but the person's name caught his attention: Barney Inkin. Barney Inkin. After a couple of minutes, a bright smile broke out on Justin's face. Barney Inkin was an anagram for Brian Kinney. Justin wondered, could it really be Brian?

He opened the email.

_Hey, Beautiful,_

_You look hot in your pictures, especially the one with you licking chocolate off of your cheek. _

Justin froze for a second; then he quickly opened another tab and typed in the address for one of the dating Web sites where they had posted his profile. He went straight to his picture gallery. His chin nearly hit the floor. He saw a great many pictures he hadn't posed for. There was one of Justin holding both of Gus's hands walking him to the bathroom. He had a huge smile on his face, and he looked…kind of good. Yet another depicted him holding Molly in his arms, dipping her and singing along to the song they were dancing to. Ironically, the song was "Dancing Queen." Brian was dancing with Gus as Justin danced with Molly. Brian had been so sweet, spinning Gus over and over again, eliciting gales of giggles from his son. Another still showed Justin sleeping on the couch, his face nuzzling someone's leg. Justin's first thought was that he looked kind of cute in that picture. His second was, was that Brian's leg? If so, that must have been from the night before. Justin sort of melted in his chair, a silly grin on his face. Apparently, Justin had fallen asleep with his head on Brian's lap. Not only had Brian allowed it, but also, he'd found it a moment worth photographing. And fuck he was fast. He must have uploaded and posted it this morning. Finally, Justin saw the one "Barney Inkin" had mentioned, in which he was licking some chocolate off of his face, right above the corner of his mouth. That must have been from the first night Brian had brought over the digital camera, when he'd made chocolate and butterscotch pancakes. Justin smiled and shook his head. How had Brian managed to take the picture without Justin's knowing about it? Justin would have been embarrassed (he did look kind of goofy) if he weren't so touched. How many pictures had Brian taken of him? Justin turned back to Barney's email.

_I can't help but imagine your talented tongue doing other things._

(Justin flushed with pleasure. His cock stirred.)

_Check out my profile, and if you like what you see (or read), IM me. _

_Barney_

Justin immediately clicked on Barney's username (to get to his profile).

Relationship status: not applicable

Kids: 1

Smoke: Hell yes

Religion: Hell no

Drink: As often as possible

Body type: The type you would like against yours as I'm pounding your ass

Height: This is kind of irrelevant. Wouldn't you rather know how big my cock is? (9 inches. Seriously.)

Hair: See above

Eyes: See above

For fun: fucking and sucking, travel, clubbing, trying new things

My job: executive

Favorite things: cock

Last read: the newspaper

About me: I would never admit to liking to snuggle. People who shout it from the rooftops are usually lazy in bed (I say in bed because they are rarely, if ever, adventurous enough to discover the pleasures of fucking against a wall, on the floor, in the shower, in chairs, on desks, etc.). On the other hand, not only am I adventurous, but also, I excel at everything I attempt, especially fucking and sucking. I may never surprise you with an indoor picnic, but I will go that extra mile to get you off, even to the point of your blacking out. I would never buy his and his bath towels or go antiquing (or to a bed and breakfast), but I will actually listen to you and try to help you solve any problems you might be having. I never make promises I can't keep. I don't lie, ever, though I might not be forthright (particularly where feelings are concerned). I would most definitely never say that "I've had my fun" and that "I'm ready to settle down" (and would you want me to? that screams BORING), but I might be open to having a boyfriend in a non-conventional, non-defined way, someone I fuck more than once and with whom I occasionally watch movies or try out new restaurants.

Sports and Exercise: I go to the gym every day, but I despise sports (unless you count fucking and sucking)

Interests: photography, filmmaking (of a sort), old movies

Education: bachelor's degree

Pets I like: Are sex slaves considered pets?

Pets I have: None… they would ruin my designer furniture

Sign: Taurus

Politics: I like money

Justin beamed. That had to be Brian. It had to be! He'd pretty much quoted Joe's entire email. Justin checked Barney's online status. He was available. Justin took a deep breath, smiled even brighter, and clicked on the link to IM "Barney" (using the Web site's internal messaging system).

TBC…(I have a ton of work to do, but when I'm done, I'll write the IM conversation)


	18. JT loves to 69

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I've been swamped with work. I really hope it doesn't suck.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Uh..hi.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Your username is hot.

**JT_loves_to_69: **I'm actually a little embarrassed. A friend of mine chose it for me. So…um…I got your email…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **(grinning)I figured.

**JT_loves_to_69: **(blushing a little)Sorry. I'm not used to "this."

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **This?

**JT_loves_to_69: **You know…online dating…corresponding with people I don't know.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Ah. Given your level of discomfort with cyberdating…what is it that brought you to the cybercesspool of desperate men?

**JT_loves_to_69: **(laughing) Desperation?No…um…I don't even know. I mean, there was a reason, but now…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Now?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Now that reason seems kind of silly.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **How so?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Well…I was hoping to get someone's attention…not just someone, but a particular person.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **How's that working out for you?

**JT_loves_to_69: **I'm not sure. I mean, I got his attention, but things are getting complicated.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **How do you mean?

**JT_loves_to_69: **It just seems like this plan (posting my profile on dating sites) will end up preventing me from getting what I want.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **What do you want?

**JT_loves_to_69: **I want…

**JT_loves_to_69: **I want you to tell me why you emailed me.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **That's a sad, sad attempt to change the subject.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **But I'll play along.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **I couldn't stop staring at that picture of you, the one where you are licking chocolate off of your face.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Really?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Really.

**JT_loves_to_69: **In your email, you said…well, I mean,do you…do you really think I'm beautiful? Or is that what you tell all the guys you're trying to hook up with?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **I most definitely do NOT call other men beautiful. Not generally.

**JT_loves_to_69: **So…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **That is some persistent fishing.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **But again, I'll play along.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Yes, I think you're beautiful.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Why?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Are you seriously asking?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Yes. I'm not sure why anyone would.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **(heavy sigh) It's hard to put into words.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Try. Please.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **That would be more effective if I could hear your voice.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Please… (in a breathy whisper)

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **That's a little better.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Okay. In the picture, you have this goofy look on your face…like you're struggling to reach that spot of chocolate, but you seem so happy, too. You display such un-self-conscious silliness…and yet, at the same time, with those pouty lips of yours…and (I can't believe I'm actually using this word) sparkling blue eyes (I think I'd piss you off all the time on purpose just to see them flash in anger)…you're hot.

**JT_loves_to_69: **(frowning)Pouty? Isn't than an adjective usually applied to women's lips?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Lips are lips are lips. They don't have gender. Pouty = full, plump, made for sucking cock

**JT_loves_to_69: **You sure seem focused on getting your dick sucked.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **1) Show me a man, gay or straight, who isn't. 2) While looking at the pictures where your ass is featured prominently, I was quite focused on burying all nine inches of my cock in it.

**JT_loves_to_69: **You probably wouldn't be so eager to shove your cock down my throat or in my ass if you got a good look at the rest of me.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **What do you mean? Do you have a hump?

**JT_loves_to_69: **No!

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **A second head?

**JT_loves_to_69: **No!

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **A third nipple?

**JT_loves_to_69: **No!

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **A club foot?

**JT_loves_to_69: **No!

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Then what? What's so monstrous about you?

**JT_loves_to_69: **You're making me feel a little silly about saying this, but, in the real world, it matters. A lot. I…I'm a bit pudgy.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Pudgy?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Yeah…I weigh 20ish more pounds than I should. Than I used to.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Ah.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Ah? That's it?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **What do you want me to say?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Uh…I don't know. Thanks for the chat, but I have to run?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Do I seem superficial?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Actually…from your profile…maybe a little.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **You got me there. I'm extremely superficial.

**JT_loves_to_69: **But everyone is to some extent. Our society wouldn't put such a high premium on youth and beauty if that weren't the case. And I'm far from the ideal.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **I wouldn't say "far from." You're a blond with blue eyes, an incredible ass, and luscious lips. That's pretty fucking close.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Do you have any flaws?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Physical ones?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Yeah.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Nope.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **But…a friend of mine has forced me to rethink some things…

**JT_loves_to_69: **Like what?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Like maybe that saying "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" isn't bullshit.

**JT_loves_to_69: **I have to admit I find that surprising…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **You aren't the only one.

**JT_loves_to_69: **So how did he get you to that conclusion?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **(heavy sigh) I don't know…

**JT_loves_to_69: **Bullshit!

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Is it getting hot in here?

**JT_loves_to_69: **So…are you going to answer the question?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **He's…imperfect (physically)

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Well most gay men would say that anyway. But…I don't know. After spending some time with him…and some highly inappropriate phone calls and dancing that was damn close to sex (for people who are just friends), more and more, I find myself wanting him.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **(heavy sigh) And not just wanting him, but wanting _only_ him.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Wow. I…don't know what to say to that.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **It's most definitely a fucked up situation.

**JT_loves_to_69: **How so? (other than the obvious)

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **He got me wanting him, but he doesn't want me…I mean, I know he's attracted to me (who wouldn't be?)…we've even fooled around a little, but…

**JT_loves_to_69: **But what?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Well, like I said,he wants me, but hedoesn't want _only_ me. That kind of desire he reserves for some other guy. Some ridiculously pathetic guy. Granted, he's not bad looking…and they have some things in common, but…

**JT_loves_to_69: **But…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **I don't fucking know. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit. Normally, I'd be glad. Then I could fuck him and move on. But 1) I'm not sure he'd even let me fuck him…Like I said, we've fooled around, but I'm not sure he'd let it go farther. Not now. He's…I don't know…a fucking romantic. A one-person person or some shit. I might have been able to fuck him before, but now that he's actually talking to Mr. Right…and 2) Even if he did let me fuck him, I wouldn't do it. Not if it was just once…existential crisis time…who the fuck am I? I never believed in love. I believed in fucking. It's honest. It's efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. But now…with him…I don't think fucking would be enough…I don't want to be something he gets out of his system before walking hand in hand with Mr. Right off into the sunset.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Holy shit! You have to tell him.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **No fucking way.

**JT_loves_to_69: **You have to! If whatever you've shared has brought such a turnaround in you, it must have had some effect on him…maybe he thought he wanted this other guy, but now he just wants you.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **I don't talk about feelings. And if it's right (again, who the fuck am I?)…shouldn't he just get it?

**JT_loves_to_69: **He might wonder, but I'm betting he doesn't know for sure and is afraid to say something…you said you were friends…maybe he's afraid to lose you altogether, you know, if he's wrong. Plus, you said he's imperfect…maybe he doesn't realize that the way you see him has changed. Maybe he thinks you could never really want him because of his flaws.

TBC…(I hate to end this part here, but I have even more cruddy work to do. I'll try to do another part later tonight. I might actually be able to…the end is in sight…)


	19. Midnight Rendezvous

Brian was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Though in the guise, flimsy though it might be, of Barney Inkin, Brian had just admitted things to Justin that he was barely able to admit to himself. In fact, he'd gotten a little carried away, confessing things to Justin that he'd worked very hard _not_ to admit to himself, namely his fear that Justin wouldn't fuck him now that he'd received an email from Joe and his desire for more from Justin than a one-time fuck.

Brian had barely allowed himself to acknowledge that he wanted Justin, chubby or no, that he liked Justin any way he came and perhaps more than he would've if Justin had been thinner. Justin was fucking adorable when he was cooking: While he'd been making the pancakes the other night, he'd danced around a little bit to the radio, shaking that perfect ass, and he'd smiled so brightly and laughed so happily. Brian wouldn't unwrite that part of Justin for anything. Brian had also begrudgingly acknowledged that he wanted only Justin, no one else. That was a particularly bitter pill to swallow. But what could Brian do? It was impossible to ignore the fact that he hadn't tricked in a week. That he had no urge to trick. That, in fact, the very idea of tricking was unpleasant (mostly..that army guy had been incredibly tempting). The last thing Brian needed was to see Justin's beautiful blue eyes on the face of every blond he "encountered." Brian refused to ask himself why (when he was still tricking) he'd started to choose only blonds.

Brian decided to change the subject. He'd already revealed too much.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Do you want to meet sometime?

**JT_loves_to_69: **What?

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches:** (chuckling) Is that a particularly hard question?

**JT_loves_to_69: **I…

Justin was suddenly scared. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Barney wasn't Brian. But how could that be? Everything in Barney's profile had screamed Brian…and Barney had an 'imperfect' friend who, he was discovering, he wanted despite his imperfections. A friend who supposedly had a thing for someone else. And Barney and his friend had fooled around, but hadn't yet fucked. Sure it was possible that Barney and his friend had had the same experiences as Brian and Justin, but how likely was it? Plus, Barney had quoted parts of Joe's email in the About Me section. It had to be Brian. It just had to be.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: ** You…

**JT_loves_to_69: **I thought you had a thing for your friend…

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Whether I do or not is irrelevant; he likes someone else.

**JT_loves_to_69: **You don't know that for sure. He might've said that before, and it might even have been true, but feelings change.

Brian thought, a little bitterly, "Don't I know it." He tried to change the subject again.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **So…is that a no?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Uh…I don't know whether meeting is a good idea.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Why?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Well…first off, I'd feel bad. If you like someone and he likes you, I wouldn't want to get in the way of that. Second…I have feelings for someone, too.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches:** Who? The guy whose attention you were trying to get by posting your profile on dating Web sites?

**JT_loves_to_69: **Technically, no.

Assuming Barney was Brian, Justin had to answer no. Justin might have been trying to get Brian's attention through this 'plan,' but Brian had assumed that he was trying to pique the interest of 'Joe.'

Did Justin like him, and not Joe? Brian's heart actually stopped beating for a second. Brian needed, like he'd never needed anything before, to touch Justin, to kiss him, to make him cum. He had a sudden brainstorm.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Fuck feelings and words and other people. Let's just fuck.

**JT_loves_to_69: **What?

Justin couldn't breathe. Brian wanted to fuck him. Tonight.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Let's just fuck.

Justin's entire body flushed with pleasure, and he smiled; despite the strangeness of the situation, perhaps, in part, because of it, Justin's pulse quickened. Brian was clearly not ready to tell Justin how he felt…to show him. But if the Barney persona allowed Brian to do that, Justin wasn't going to argue.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Umm…okay.

**Barney_Inkin's_9_Inches: **Meet me at 189 Belmont at midnight.

**JT_loves_to_69: **Okay.

At 12:01am, Justin walked into the empty warehouse at 189 Belmont. It was pitch black in there. Justin stiffened. His nervousness was quickly becoming fear. Cold, brain-numbing fear. What if Barney wasn't Brian? What if he was a mass murderer? Justin was about to bolt when he caught sight of something glowing at the very back of the warehouse. A candle. As stupid as it probably was, Justin moved (slowly) toward the light. If Barney was Brian, this could be the most incredible experience he'd ever had. He couldn't risk missing it.

When Justin finally made it to the light, he saw that the candle was sitting on a desk. And on the desk was a note.

Justin,

When you're ready for me, blow out the candle. Don't speak. Words are completely unnecessary here.

B

Justin was nervous and scared and excited. He took a deep breath and blew out the candle. He was standing in complete darkness. He couldn't even see the desk anymore, though he knew it was just a foot away. He shivered in anticipation.

Suddenly someone grabbed him from behind. Justin jumped a little, but quickly melted into the person's embrace. He was nuzzling Justin's neck and holding him tight around the waist. Justin smiled. It had to be Brian. This man smelled just like him (and seemed to be the same height). Then the man spun Justin around and crushed their lips together. He threaded his fingers through Justin's hair and growled softly as he pulled Justin closer and plunged his tongue into Justin's mouth. He kissed Justin senseless (until Justin's cock was throbbing, leaking, and aching) and then started licking and sucking on Justin's neck and earlobe. When Justin was panting and a little dizzy, he began laying open-mouthed kisses down his neck and (after he'd unbuttoned Justin's shirt, a little frantically Justin thought) down his chest. When he reached Justin's stomach, he ran his fingers all over it, gently. Justin clenched his fist to stop himself from running. He couldn't help but be uncomfortable by all the attention his imperfection was receiving. But when the man started laying open-mouthed kisses all over it, Justin relaxed. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Then the man traced his belly button with his tongue, causing Justin to giggle, which, Justin thought, caused the man to smile.

Justin's breath caught in his throat when the man unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing them and his underwear down to his ankles. Another wave of dizziness washed over Justin when the man deepthroated his cock. The man sucked and swallowed his cock until Justin's entire body was throbbing. Then, unexpectedly, he moved behind Justin, eliciting a whimper from Justin; he couldn't help but be a little disappointed, that is, until the man started running his hands all over his ass, so gently, almost reverently, and, finally, spread his ass cheeks and drew his tongue over Justin's entrance. Justin couldn't stifle a soft moan or, when the man pushed his tongue into Justin, a loud shout, "Ohhhh!" The man tongue fucked Justin until Justin was a little wobbly on his feet and then moved back in front of him. He took Justin's cock back into his mouth just as he pushed a couple of fingers inside Justin. When the man swallowed around Justin's cock just as his fingers reached Justin's prostate, Justin actually mewled (and placed his hands on the man's shoulders so that he would remain upright).

The next couple of minutes were a bit hazy. The man sucked and swallowed Justin's cock almost desperately while fingering him, and Justin…Justin had something akin to an out of body experience. He felt melty and floaty, but not individual sensations (like the wet heat surrounding his cock or the firmness of the man's shoulders beneath his fingers) and then he was exploding, his body returning to itself, catching fire, and burning, burning, burning. Justin was still slightly dazed when his orgasm ceased shuddering through him, but he thought he felt the man slip his hand in his, threading their fingers together and squeezing. Then the hand was gone; the man was gone. Justin was standing in the middle of an abandoned warehouse alone, his pants and underwear around his ankles.

Despite the chill creeping up his body (his ass and cock were still slicked with spit, and it was a cool night), despite the darkness, despite the late hour, despite the disarray he was in (his clothes half off, his lips still red and swollen from the man's kiss, his hair still mussed from the man's running his fingers through it), despite the fact that he was now alone, Justin had a silly grin on his face. The man had sucked Justin's cock, without reciprocation, without fucking, and had even held his hand. He'd even treated his flaw with something very like reverence. That was love, wasn't it?

Justin smiled, remembering what the note had said: "Words are completely unnecessary here." With his actions, Brian had expressed everything in his heart, as clearly as if he had written the words in the sky.

Brian loved him.


	20. Sudden Urgent Needs

After leaving the warehouse, Brian drove straight to Babylon. Once there, he bought a beer and leaned back against the bar, scanning the crowd with narrowed, intense eyes, but an empty expression, like Brian-Fucking-Kinney was wont to do; however, he had great difficulty selecting a target, quickly finding fault with everyone his eyes lighted upon. Too tall. Too short. Too feminine. Too bulky. Not bulky enough. And so on. He downed his beer in frustration. Then he called Anita (after which he turned off his phone). Fifteen minutes later, she showed up with a variety of intoxicants, ecstasy that she swore was the most potent she'd ever stocked and a few other things. Brian purchased (and took) everything. Twenty minutes later, he was feeling A LOT better. He smiled as he scanned the crowd now. And when his eyes landed on a guy with longish blond hair, pale skin, and, from what he could tell (though he was far away), a nicely rounded ass, he immediately strode over (well…it was more like a half-walk, half-run, but Brian wouldn't accept that characterization; Brian-Fucking-Kinney didn't run, not even half-run). When the blond man turned around, Brian's face fell, as he discovered that it wasn't Justin (the realization that Brian had been hoping to see Justin was quite a shock to him), but he dismissed his disappointment. He was feeling good, and this guy was close enough. Brian wouldn't allow himself to complete that thought (to admit that the blond resembled Justin enough for Brian to derive pleasure from fucking him). So, blissfully ignorant (relatively speaking), Brian grabbed the man by the belt loop and pulled him toward the backroom.

Once Justin had recovered enough to pull up his pants, he headed back to his car. He put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. He just sat there for a while. After his encounter with "Barney," Justin was dying to see Brian. But he wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Brian clearly had issues expressing romantic interest (desire for more than a fuck, like, and love), and Justin didn't want to push him. But…he really, really wanted to see Brian. So after sitting in his car pondering his quandary for a while, about twenty minutes, he called Brian's home phone and then his cell. There was no answer at Brian's apartment, and the cell went right to voice mail. Justin cursed and started tapping on the steering wheel nervously. He could just go to Babylon, which was most likely where Brian was, given the lateness of the hour, if he wasn't with Justin or home. Justin sighed. Babylon was probably the place he was least comfortable, and he was definitely not dressed for it (he was wearing loose-fitting blue jeans and a plain black shirt), but, in the end, his desire to see Brian far outweighed all other considerations, all other fears and anxieties. So he took a deep breath and turned the key.

Brian pushed blond not-Justin up against the wall in the backroom and slid his hands from the man's chest to his abdomen, frowning when he reached the man's abdomen. All taut muscles. Brian quickly spun the man around and slid his hands over the man's ass. Now that was much better. He had a near-perfect bubble butt. Near perfect. Brian half-groaned, half-muttered, "Fucking Christ" and turned to leave. He was definitely going to have to lodge a complaint with Anita about the potency of her E. At a sufficiently high dosage, he shouldn't care about faces and how the abdomen and ass of one guy compared to that of others. He should care only about finding a tight, tight space to shove his cock. That's when he saw "a ruckus," as Emmy Lou would have termed it. Someone had tripped, the crowd around the backroom door had parted, and the men forming the crowd were all whispering to their neighbors. Brian moved closer. His eyes widened when his eyes lighted on the aforementioned fallen man. It was Justin. Suddenly Brian felt a cold heavy lump in his stomach. Had Justin seen Brian with the blond not-Justin? Had he been so upset that he had tripped in his haste to get away?

Justin had looked all over Babylon for Brian…the dance floor…the bar…and when he didn't see his quarry, he had reluctantly headed toward the backroom. He tried to prepare himself, just in case Brian was with someone. Justin could understand if Brian was tricking. Justin imagined that, if that were the case, he was trying as hard as he could to pretend he was still as much the local gay lothario as ever, still as uninterested in relationships as he'd ostensibly always been. Justin had even attempted to take that as a compliment, a comfort…clearly Brian had feelings for him…so if Brian felt the need to go directly to Babylon from their encounter in the warehouse…Brian's feelings for him must be so strong that they scared him. But when Justin saw Brian running his fingers down the _blond_ guy's torso, his flat, perfectly muscled torso, Justin was overwhelmed by a wave of nausea so great that he immediately spun around and actually fled, translation, he ran. Unfortunately, he tripped (on someone's foot) while wheeling around, twisting his ankle and landing hard on his face. Justin, blushing a deep crimson, moved to a sitting position. Then he closed his eyes. He could hear the laughter and the murmuring, and, fuck, what he wouldn't have given to be invisible at that moment. Just long enough to escape. That was especially true when he opened his eyes and saw Brian looking down at him. Justin was about to stand up, when Brian reached down with both arms and actually picked him up, one arm under Justin's legs and one around his back. Justin blushed a deeper crimson (if that was possible) and protested, "Don't, Brian. I'm too heavy!"

Brian shook his head. "Actually, you're not." Then he carried him over to one of the two staircases leading up to the catwalk and set him down on the fourth step up.

The E was truly as potent as Anita had claimed, though Brian had had his doubts but a few minutes before. He came to that conclusion when he felt a sudden urgent need to tell Justin that he'd taken the trick in the backroom to fuck him, but that he'd changed his mind at the last moment, that he had come to realize that he no longer wanted perfection, just Justin, or, rather, that Justin had come to mean perfection for Brian and that anything that strayed, even a little, from that template was imperfect and thus unsatisfying. He stared at the blond, trying to form the words, but he couldn't. The best he could manage was to grin and say, in a husky drawl, "I'm glad you're here."

TBC…(soon)


	21. Crazy Impulses

_The best Brian could manage was to grin and say, in a husky drawl, "I'm glad you're here." _

Justin looked around a little uneasily. Everyone who'd seen him fall was staring at him still, but, now, curiously. Brian-Fucking-Kinney had never, to their knowledge, carried any man anywhere. In fact, he never took non-sexual interest in anyone but his best friend and sometimes his best friend's friends. Justin swallowed hard and then asked Brian, hesitantly, nervously, "You are?" Justin's stomach was doing flip flops. Did that mean Brian wasn't disappointed that he wasn't currently fucking the blond guy?

Brian nodded, his eyes wide and bright, and he inquired, his voice suddenly soft and full of concern, "How's your ankle?" He even lifted Justin's foot into his hands (causing Justin to laugh as he fell back a little; fortunately, he moved his arms behind him quickly, quickly enough to avoid banging his head). Then he pushed Justin's sock down and caressed the injured part gently. Justin shivered, smiled, and blushed, all at the same time. He closed his eyes for a second to ride out a particularly delicious shiver and then let them flutter back open, half-saying, half-moaning, "Actually, it…it feels a lot better now." Brian stroked Justin's ankle a few more times and then pulled his sock back up and returned Justin's foot to its original position. "Can you dance?"

Justin nodded. "I think so."

Then they were on the dance floor, brightly colored lights spinning and flashing and washing over them. The heat coming off the other dancers' bodies and Brian's body in waves, Brian's body pressed so tightly against Justin's, the lights spinning and spinning and spinning, the scent of Brian musk enveloping Justin, the electricity sparking everywhere Brian's hands and fingers traveled (Justin's ass, his back, his neck, his hair) and then pulsing through Justin's body to the beat of the music, and the feel of the soft, slightly damp skin of Brian's neck, in which Justin's face was buried, was nearly overwhelming for Justin. Justin would have been thrilled to learn that Brian was experiencing a similar physical awakening, all his senses heightened, prickling and bristling, as well as a similar feeling of being engulfed, seized.

Justin's heart was pounding so hard in his chest, and he was trembling. He brushed his lips gently against Brian's neck. When Justin felt Brian shiver, he swallowed hard. Then he traced the tip of his tongue along the curve of Brian's neck, and, when Brian slid his hands back down to Justin's ass and squeezed it hard, Justin moaned and then starting sucking Brian's neck, right at the pulse point. He drew the tip of his tongue along Brian's ear and then nibbled and sucked on Brian's ear lobe. Then Brian's hands were tangled in Justin's hair, pulling Justin back a little and tilting Justin's head, Brian's eyes burning into his. Then Brian drew Justin closer. Closer and closer and closer. So slowly that Justin suddenly ached all over. Then Brian pressed his lips against Justin's and then, _then_, Brian thrust his tongue into Justin's mouth. And they weren't dancing anymore. They were standing in the middle of the dance floor, making out like horny teenagers, grinding and pulling hair.

Then suddenly Brian's hand was in Justin's, fingers threaded, as Brian led Justin out of the club, leaving a wake of astonished onlookers, including Mikey, Emmett, and Ted. And then Brian pushed Justin up against the passenger's side of his jeep, and his tongue was back in Justin's mouth, and his hands were everywhere, on Justin's ass, on his abdomen, on his chest, pinching his nipples, on his neck, and then back in his hair, pulling Justin closer, kissing him deeper, pressing his hard cock against Justin's and rubbing up against Justin. Justin could barely breathe and, what breath he had, he used to moan, and loudly.

Then Brian broke their kiss, and, his cheek pressed against Justin's, his voice, husky, so husky it caused Justin to shiver and tremble, he whispered, "I need…"

Unfortunately, Justin would not learn, not tonight, what it was Brian needed so desperately, and desperate Brian was, judging by his plaintive tone, because that was the moment when blond not-Justin caught sight of them. He hissed, "You blew me off for him? A fucking fatty?" Brian whipped his head around, toward the voice, and glared daggers at blond not-Justin until he stomped off, but the damage was done. When Brian turned back, he noted that Justin had paled. His eyes were lifeless, and he had moved as far away from Brian as he could, shrinking back against the jeep. His eyes were not cast down, but he wouldn't look at Brian, not even when Brian whispered softly, "Hey." In fact, that's when Justin started to leave, heading toward his car.

Brian just barely managed to catch Justin's hand and pull him back. He grinned and drawled, "Where do you think you're going?"

Justin still wouldn't look at him, and he didn't answer, not in words. He just shrugged.

Brian sighed. Then, on some strange impulse (he kind of wanted Justin to meet Debbie), he asked, his voice bright and hopeful (if you can believe it), "Do you want to go the Liberty Diner? They have the best hamburgers, juicy and delicious, and lemon bars that a…guy I know, Emmett, says are "scrumptious, simply delightful." Maybe you could do a review." Brian was suddenly eager to watch Justin moan softly in pleasure and smile broadly as he ate one of Deb's famous burgers…licking his lips and maybe trying to lick ketchup off of his cheek. Brian felt a strange amusement bubbling up through him…giving him the urge to giggle. He wisely suppressed that urge.

Justin still wouldn't look at Brian. He shook his head and replied, in a gravelly whisper, "The last thing I want to do right now is eat."

Then suddenly Brian pushed Justin up against the jeep once more, his body pressed so tightly against Justin's. But this time, it was more abrupt, a little fiercer. Justin gasped. Brian lifted Justin's chin up with a finger. His eyes were wide, but serious, as he growled, "Just be yourself. Anyone who dismisses you because of your weight isn't worth your time."

Justin just gaped at Brian. It was suddenly so hard to breathe and impossible to speak.

Then Brian stepped back and grinned. "So…shall we?"

Justin swallowed hard. But he nodded, too. Then he licked his lips and said, "Umm…yeah. Let's go."

Brian tossed Justin his keys and informed him, "You're driving. I had a little too much…of everything."

Justin smiled brightly and walked around to the other side of the jeep.


	22. Defining Justin aka, the Diner, Part 1

A/N: My muse ambushed me...so...this isn't what I expected it to be...and that means I need to write another chapter asap, but, of course, I don't mind. I hope you like this part, despite how weird it is.

Justin was a little nervous. Brian had only ever taken him one other place (Babylon), and both Babylon and the Liberty Diner were on Liberty Avenue, which, these days, might have been the center of hell as far as Justin was concerned. Justin would normally have been more comfortable (he would be much less on display at a diner, where he could sit down and where his belly would be hidden by the table), but he was still on edge from the fall and that blond trick's insult. Plus, Brian would probably know people there, and Justin hadn't met any of Brian's friends yet…well his other friends.

But Justin shouldn't have been worried. Either that or he should have been very, very worried. Once out of the car, Brian hopped over to Justin and grabbed Justin by the shoulders, guiding him toward the Diner's door, but then actually slid his arms around Justin's chest, wheeled them around, and backed them through the door. Then he whipped them around again and guided them toward his regular booth. Justin was a little embarrassed by this, but he was enjoying being in Brian's arms too much to complain. When they reached the table, Brian slid into one side and pulled Justin after him by the hand. When they were both seated, Brian threw his arm around Justin and pulled him a little closer. Justin couldn't help but beam (and be grateful for whatever it was Brian had taken). But he blushed, too, when he noticed everyone else noticing them. The diner was pretty busy, about half full, and the eyes of every patron and most of the wait staff were on Brian and Justin. Justin supposed that the staring had something to do with Brian's arm being slung over Justin's shoulders.

Brian appeared blissfully unaware of the staring, but he wasn't. He simply didn't care. Any other time and he would have. Brian had spent years cultivating the perfect persona, the perfect mask; it had protected him for a while, but, unfortunately, over time, it had come to own him. He was expected to act in a certain way, and when he did not, almost everyone, even his best friend Mikey, took this unusual behavior as a sign of weakness. And Brian-Fucking-Kinney wasn't weak. Even Lindsay, the mother of his child, a person he'd been friends with almost as long as he'd been with Mikey, policed deviations in his behavior. She had certain ideas about him that must always remain in place if the world were to continue to spin on the correct axis. But Brian wasn't stupid. He understood full well that she had the same agenda as Mikey. If she couldn't have Brian, she didn't want anyone to have him. Brian could never want the things she had wished he would want. With her. His doing so would serve as a betrayal of such proportions that she might come to hate him. Brian had known this for more than a decade, but he never thought it would matter. He never expected to settle down with one person, not even Mikey, though he sometimes implied that that might one day come to pass. Maybe it was cruel, but Brian needed Mikey and his devotion as much as he needed Lindsay and hers. He'd never planned to have a partner, let alone a family. Technically, he did have one, one including his son, but Brian was keenly aware that he was a bit player. Mel and Lindsay were actually raising Gus. Brian was merely a figurehead. The sperm and the money. He was also keenly aware of the power Lindsay had over him when it came to Gus. She could rescind his visitation with Gus on a whim. It wasn't even official. Brian had long ago signed away all rights to his son (shortly after his birth). No, Brian didn't have a family in the general sense, and he'd assumed he never would. Therefore, he depended on Lindsay, Gus, and Mikey (and to a lesser extent Debbie and Vic and to an even lesser extent Emmett and Ted) to fill whatever holes that deficit of partnership and family created. The loneliness he sometimes felt…at night, after he'd kicked out the last trick, the loft felt so dark and empty.

But now, there was Justin. Brian wasn't sure what that meant. Justin didn't fit into any of the approved categories. He wasn't a child (like Gus), a friend in which he had no sexual interest, or, rather, a friend in which he no longer had sexual interest, weak as it might have initially been (like Mikey and Lindsay), an acquaintance he spoke to only when he was desperate for companionship (though he'd never admit he needed companionship; like Emmett and Ted), a partner in crime/business associate (like Cynthia, his female analog, who understood Brian in ways few others could), or a surrogate parent (like Vic and Deb). Justin shared some quality with all of them, yet he possessed some that no one else in Brian's life possessed. He was someone Brian felt the need to protect (like Gus), someone who desired him, to some extent (like Mikey and Lindsay), someone Brian turned to for companionship (like Lindsay, Mikey, Emmett, and Ted), someone who understood what he did career-wise, that he strove for not only money and career advancement but also artistry, perfection, and, occasionally, social value (like Cynthia), someone who taught him life lessons (like Lindsay, Vic, and Debbie)…but beyond that, Justin was someone Brian could just be with (without getting high first), someone who took him seriously, in spite of his reputation, someone who expected more from him. And, of course, someone Brian desired more than he'd yet desired anyone. Someone who might truly have ruined him for everyone else. Someone…he could see himself…

maybe…possibly…

growing old with…

And this thought wasn't born of a fear of dying alone; it wasn't something he never actually believed would come to pass but that he let remain 'possible' so he could continue barreling through life without serious thought about the future.

Brian wasn't sure what Justin would think of that…he wasn't even sure what he thought of that…but it was pleasant…and it kind of felt like hope.


	23. Defining Brian aka, the Diner, Part 2

When Brian walked into the Diner, attached to someone (who wasn't Mikey or Gus), Debbie's jaw almost hit the floor. A minute later, when they were seated and Brian slid his arm around that someone's shoulders, she gaped so much that she lost her gum. It wasn't until Kiki stepped in the aforementioned gum and exclaimed, "Ewww! Deb!" that Debbie shook her head, closed her mouth, grabbed two menus, and headed over to the booth in which Brian and his…companion were seated. Once there, she cleared her throat and set the menus in front of them. Debbie was at a loss. She normally just barreled right into conversations, but this behavior was so unprecedented for Brian that she was quite literally rendered speechless.

Brian looked up at her curiously, tilting his head and smirking, but Justin, completely unaware that Brian knew the waitress or that she was behaving as though she were possessed, smiled at her warmly and said, "Could I have a cup of coffee?"

Debbie nodded and replied softly, "Sure, sweetie."

Then she left, walking slowly toward the coffeemaker. Brian called after her, "If you care, I'll take a coffee, too."

Justin chastised him, "Brian!"

Brian leaned into Justin and whispered, placing his lips against Justin's ear, "I know her. She's my best friend's mother."

Brian's soft lips and the warm puffs of air caused by his whispering caused Justin to shiver and giggle at the same time. Brian was quite pleased with that response, so much so that he raised the ante, nibbling on Justin's ear lobe. Justin's eyes fluttered closed and then open, and he licked his lips. Brian and Justin were so engrossed in each other that neither of them heard the bell on the door, signaling someone's entry. Thus, they were both startled when Mikey, Emmett, and Ted squeezed into the seat across from them.

Justin's eyes widened, and he froze, but Brian recovered quickly, smiling his lazy, overconfident smile.

Mikey didn't even look at Brian. He simply glared at Justin. Then he said, "Who's the twink?"

Emmett elbowed Mikey and then extended his hand. "Ignore Grumpy. I'm Emmett, the picklepuss is Mikey, and that's Ted. We're…uh…Brian's friends."

Brian leaned in and whispered to Justin, "PP is my best friend."

Justin laughed brightly but then smiled a little nervously when he focused once more on the three newcomers. Finally he replied to Emmett, "Hi. I'm Justin."

Emmett, Ted, and even Mikey inclined their heads a little, waiting for Justin to declare what he was to Brian. But they waited in vain. Emmett prodded gently, "So where do you two know each other from?"

Neither Brian nor Justin responded, but as it turns out, they didn't have to. Mikey interrupted, "So Brian, since when do you feed a trick before fucking him?" Mikey had seen Brian chasing after this blond kid a few nights ago and had seen Brian kissing him at Babylon that night. He didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

Brian gave Mikey a dark look and, in a low growl, replied, "Justin's not a trick."

Debbie returned then with Brian and Justin's coffees. A little more animated now, she asked, "You're Justin?"

Justin smiled and nodded.

"Gus mentioned you."

In chorus, Brian and Justin asked, "He did?" (They looked at each other and smiled when they realized they'd spoken simultaneously, but then turned back to Deb).

"Yup. He told me that he ate pizza at your house and watched Cinderella, that you had a cool sister, and that…you were Brian's new boyfriend."

At this, Brian quirked an eyebrow, and Justin smiled (and blushed).

"He kept calling you daddy Jus, which pissed Mel off to no end."

Brian smirked. He liked pissing Mel off, even indirectly. Mikey interjected, "You corrected him, right?"

"What?"

Mikey sighed in exasperation. "When kids get stupid ideas in their head, you're supposed to correct them."

Deb placed a hand on her hip. "How could I correct him if I didn't know he was wrong?"

Everyone turned to Brian and Justin now, awaiting confirmation or denial of this information.

But Brian wasn't about to let anyone put him on the spot. Talking to the munchers about Gus and Molly's "playdate" was bad enough. Instead, he asked, "Could you bring Justin a cheeseburger, medium (he looked at Justin, and Justin nodded), and fries? I'll just stick to coffee."

Justin muttered, "Yeah right. You'll end up eating half my fries." Then when Brian glared at Justin, he laughed, loudly, causing Brian to crack a smile.

Mikey watched this exchange with increasing discomfort. He suddenly felt like he might puke. Emmett and Debbie looked at each other and smiled, brightly. Maybe Gus knew what he was talking about after all. Ted just stared at the two of them, his eyes wide.

Brian interrupted all of this by calling out Deb's name.

She shook her head and replied, "Huh?"

"Cheeseburger…"

She chuckled. "Don't get your panties in a bunch." Turning to Emmett, Ted, and Mikey, she asked, "Do you want anything?"

Emmett smiled and shook his head. "Just a front row seat, but I already have that." He even rubbed his hands together.

Ted replied, "Coffee," and Mikey pouted and said, "Nothing." Debbie ruffled his hair, earning her a complaining "Ma!" Then she took the menus and went to put Justin's order in.

Once Debbie was gone, Mikey hissed, "Since when did you start introducing tricks to your kid?"

Brian bit the inside of his cheek, trying to rein in his annoyance, but it did little. He couldn't stop himself from looking at Mikey with wide serious eyes and snapping, "How many times do I have to say it?" He pointed at Justin. "Not a trick."

Mikey shook his head incredulously. "Well, he can't be your boyfriend. We all know that Brian Kinney doesn't do boyfriends."

Brian shrugged. "Maybe that's changed."

Suddenly Emmett piped up, "That wouldn't be the strangest thing I ever heard."

Everyone looked at him quizzically. He continued, in whisper, "I heard that Brian punched some guy in the back room."

Brian sent Emmett a warning look, but he just kept going. "The guy had brown hair and brown eyes, a real hotty. As I heard it, Brian took the guy into the backroom to fuck him, but then the guy said something and Brian slugged him and stormed out!"

Brian sighed and looked down.

Justin looked over at Brian, concern in his eyes and on his face. "Is that true, Brian?"

Brian nodded.

"What happened?"

Brian shook his head. He growled, "Not here."

"What? Why?"

Suddenly, Brian pushed Justin out of the booth, grabbed his hand, and pulled him outside.

"Brian? What's going on? Why did you punch that guy?"

Brian snapped, "I don't want to talk about it."

Justin stopped (they'd been walking toward the jeep). Brian stopped, too (they were still holding hands).

Brian stared at Justin, his expression blank. He blinked. Justin looked at Brian intently, trying to understand. Suddenly, he grew cold. "Wait…a brunet with brown eyes."

Brian sent Justin a pleading look. "Don't."

In a near panic, he inquired, "He said something about me, didn't he?"

Brian let his head fall.

Justin shook his head in wonder. His voice barely rising above a whisper, he said, slowly, "And you punched him…"

Brian hadn't been looking at Justin, so he was startled when Justin suddenly pushed him up against a wall and kissed him. Brian responded at first, kissing Justin back hungrily, but, a few seconds later, he pushed Justin away (a little). Half-panting, half-talking, he asked, "What is this?"

Justin licked his lips and shook his head. Then he said, his voice so husky that it caused Brian's chest to constrict, "I just need your lips on my lips, your tongue in my mouth. Please."

Brian swallowed hard. Then he complied.

After Brian and Justin had been gone a few minutes, Mikey asked peevishly, "Are they coming back or what?"

Emmett patted his shoulder. "I don't think so."

TBC…


	24. Star Crossed

Justin threaded his fingers into Brian's hair and plunged his tongue deeper into the man's mouth. He kissed Brian hungrily, so hungrily. Though blissfully happy, he was also frustrated. And that frustration nearly drove him insane. No matter how hard he pressed his body against Brian's, no matter how deeply he thrust his tongue into Brian's mouth, he knew he'd never be close enough, knew he'd never feel connected enough. He doubted even that sex would give him what he needed, what he desired with every fiber of his being.

He wanted Brian so much in this moment, more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything, that his entire body trembled. He broke their kiss and looked into Brian's eyes. That just set his body to trembling even more and his chest to aching. He wanted to do a million crazy things. To push Brian to the ground and impale himself on Brian's erect cock. To lick, suck, nibble on, and bite every single inch of his skin and then ride him, right here and now, without shame, in front of God and everyone. To tell Brian that he loved him, that he was desperately in love with him. So desperately.

What Justin did not know was that he didn't have to say the words. Brian could read them in his wide scared eyes, on his flushed face, all over his tense, shaking body, and in his shallow, labored breathing. What Justin would never know was how close Brian came to beating him to the punch. To confessing that he was experiencing feelings he'd never even believed existed. That Justin was quite simply the one.

But the idea that Justin, that any person, was irreplaceable…destiny…the point of everything, of an entire life, paralyzed Brian with fear. People had to come and go. Brian kept not only lovers but also his best friends and his son at arm's length. He didn't like the idea of needing to see anyone every day, let alone a…boyfriend or whatever. Of needing only one man's body, only one man's kiss, only one man's warmth in his bed. He didn't want to wake up reaching for anyone. Because people couldn't be trusted. No one. Whatever her feelings for Brian, Lindsay was committed to Mel, and someday, Mikey would be committed to someone else. Friends passed in and out of a person's life, their importance ebbing and flowing. And children…Brian loved Gus, but he was being raised by other people. Brian preferred that. He didn't want to need even his son, not the way he would if he spent every day caring for him. Children grew up, went off to college, and started their own families. That was it. People…lovers, friends, and children came and went. A person could only really depend on him or herself. He or she would leave this world as he or she had entered it. Alone. Other people pretended that this was not the case because the world was too big…the nights too dark and long. They needed to feel connected. They shrouded themselves in relationships of all kinds, pretending that they weren't alone, but at the end of the day, at the end of their lives, they were. Everyone was always alone. Believing that that was not the case was delusion. Bullshit. If Brian told Justin how he felt or even allowed Justin to tell Brian what was written clearly in his eyes, what he was obviously dying to tell him, Brian would want to hold onto Justin and never let go. But eventually, he would be forced to. People came and went. That was the natural order to life.

Brian couldn't do this…whatever _this_ was. He just couldn't. But…he had no idea how to end something that hadn't even really begun, not without losing Justin completely, and he was just as incapable of that, of forcing Justin all the way out of his life as he was of making Justin his world.

Then fate stepped in. Brian happened to glance over Justin's shoulder and saw a familiar face. Brian looked down and clenched his jaw. His chest felt so hollow, so empty. But he had to stop this thing, this thing that was careening out of Brian's control. Brian licked his lips and swallowed hard, pushing back the nausea that rose as the seconds ticked by, as he realized what he had to do. He lifted his eyes slowly, but smiled when they reached Justin's. Then he turned a stunned Justin around and whispered into his ear, "Looks like this is your lucky night."

Suddenly Justin couldn't breathe. It was Joe, the man from the dating Web site. Justin turned back around when Brian started pulling away. He shook his head, protesting, "No, Brian. No…I…" But Brian was walking away. Justin was desperate to stop him. He cried, "Wait!"

Brian let his head fall. Then he swung around. Slowly. When he lifted his head and his eyes met Justin's, Brian silently implored Justin to let it go…to let him go. Not to force him to say hateful, horrible things…things he didn't mean…things he could never mean. Not about Justin.

Justin stammered, "I don't understand…"

Brian's eyes were empty now, as empty as his chest still felt. He deadpanned, "I was helping you practice for the real thing, but now the real thing is here." Brian smirked. Then he drawled, "Time to hop out of the nest and fly, little bird." He nodded his head toward Joe, who was still standing next to the diner watching them, watching Justin, who he had recognized from his pictures, looking hopeful. When Justin saw him standing there, the eager expression in his eyes, he felt ill. Brian's were no longer empty, though his expression was blank (a feat only Brian could manage). He again silently implored Justin to take the out. To pretend with him that they were only friends, that they had only ever been friends.

With that flash of intensity in Brian's eyes, Justin understood. He understood everything. He wasn't too surprised. He'd known how skittish Brian was. He'd known that Brian needed the idea of Joe as much as Justin had. That they'd both been afraid, unable to be honest. Now Justin was ready, dying, to take a chance, to tell the truth, but Brian…

Justin nodded slowly and blinked back the tears that were fighting to escape. Then, in a voice filled with unshed tears and feigned excitement, he said, "Thanks for everything."

Brian, whose own eyes were glistening, shook his head. In a husky whisper, he replied, "It was my pleasure, Sunshine." He had no idea what possessed him to call Justin that. It just…fit, and Brian needed…something. Some connection with Justin that was his alone. The pet name…nickname…whatever, almost pushed Justin over the edge. He wanted so badly to jump into Brian's arms and kiss him until he took everything back, until he admitted that he had feelings for Justin. But Justin knew that that would only make things worse, cause Brian to push Justin even further away. So instead, he swallowed hard and said, "I'll call you later."

Brian still smiling softly, nodded. "Can't wait to hear all the details." Justin clenched his jaw, but then plastered a fake smile on his face and pivoted. He walked right up to Joe, grabbed his arm, and muttered, "Let's go."

Joe smiled broadly and replied, "Okay!"

Brian watched Justin and Joe leave. Joe was chattering away. "I can't believe I just happened to see you here! I started to think that you weren't interested, you know, because you never emailed me back."

Brian sighed and leaned back against the wall. That's when Emmett, Ted, and Mikey came out of the diner. Mikey trotted up to him eagerly. "Brian! We thought you'd left!" Then in a complacent, snide voice, he observed, "I see you shook off the twink. Good for you! He wasn't really your type, was he? You usually go for the super buff manly types."

Emmett had been watching Brian closely. He was leaning against the building, staring at the ground…and he looked weird. If Emmett hadn't known better, he would have said that he seemed defeated…even a little sad. He hadn't said hello to them, not even to Mikey. He often ignored Emmett and Ted, but he never ignored Mikey. He didn't even appear to be listening to Mikey. Not until Mikey, rambling on, said, "Plus, he was kind of a fatty. Were the pickings at Babylon really that slim?"

Then he looked up sharply, his eyes dark and a little scary. He growled, his voice so low, "Shut up. Shut the fuck up!"

Then he stormed off. He didn't even head to the jeep. Apparently, he was planning to walk home.

Mikey jumped to follow Brian, calling after him, "Brian, wait!"

But Emmett grabbed Mikey's arm. Emmett's eyes were wide, and his voice low, almost a whisper. "No. let him be." He stared after Brian for a moment, but then shook his head and guided Mikey in the other direction. He suggested, "Let's go home and watch a movie. Maybe _The_ _Way We Were_." He was suddenly in the mood for a sad love story.

TBC…Don't hate me...it's temporary, I promise. Justin won't give up so easily, and Brian...well...he's scared, but soon, his need for Justin will force him to overcome his fear.


	25. The Things We Cannot Do

A/N: Sorry angst lovers...I didn't have the stomach (or the heart) to go through with my original plan for this chapter

Joe tried to kiss Justin. They'd just turned the corner. Joe pushed Justin against the building and pressed his body against Justin's. He was rarely this forceful, this impulsive. But Justin was beautiful. So beautiful. A little chunky, but Joe didn't mind. All he could see were Justin's plump red lips and his light, light blue eyes, sparkling in the darkness. Joe looked into those glittering orbs (yes, he was smitten to the point of wishing to write bad poetry) and smiled. Somehow he missed the discomfort lying therein. He took the flush creeping up Justin's neck as arousal rather than anxiety and annoyance and anger. Then Joe leaned in. Slowly. So slowly. Now that he'd cornered his quarry, he didn't want to rush. His entire body tingled with increasing intensity as he drew nearer.

When his lips were a hair's breadth away from Justin's, and his cock already throbbing, Justin turned his head and even pushed the man away. Joe was momentarily stunned. But he persisted. Perhaps Justin simply didn't like kissing. A shame, but not a deal breaker. He stepped closer and rubbed Justin's cock (which was still hard from his encounter with Brian) through the fabric of his pants. Joe whispered, "You're hard, and fucking huge." He laughed softly. "I guess pictures don't lie."

When Joe squeezed Justin's cock, Justin drew his breath in sharply and then started panting. Justin's stomach turned a little. He didn't want to be enjoying this. He wanted every part of himself to reject that which he didn't truly desire. Joe whispered huskily, "Let me suck you off."

Justin didn't know how they'd gone from light chit chat to blow job propositions, in just a couple of minutes, though, admittedly, it took a lot less time at Babylon. Just a glance and the thought, "You'll do." Justin didn't know he shouldn't be surprised. He'd been a boyfriend most of his adult life, short a time though that had been, and after that, he'd been heavier and therefore less attractive.

Justin actually considered saying yes. He was angry and hurt, and he felt completely rejected. Bitterly, he thought, Brian had probably gone back to Babylon, or to some other club, to pick up a trick. To fuck someone else. Brian had been playing with Justin for weeks, probably still tricking the whole time. It wasn't fair. So Justin leaned back against the wall and let his eyes flutter closed as Joe frantically unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Justin licked his lips and swallowed hard when Joe swiped his tongue over the head. Then Joe wrapped his lips tightly around Justin's cock and started drawing it into his mouth. When the tip hit the back of Joe's throat, Justin moaned softly. But a flash drew Justin out of the warm sea of pleasure into which he'd been drifting. Brian tracing Justin's belly button with his tongue. Followed by a giggle, his, and then a smile, Brian's. He blinked a few times to quell the tears that that memory had brought barreling to the surface, shook his head, and pushed Joe away. He hastily pulled up his jeans and fastened them, muttering, "Sorry, I can't do this" and running toward Babylon (where his car was parked). Joe called, "Justin, wait!" But Justin didn't stop. He didn't even look back. He just kept running.

Tonight had been incredible, with Brian sucking him off in the warehouse, dancing with him at Babylon, and holding him close at the diner. And whatever else had happened, Justin didn't want to forget that. He didn't want to let go. He wanted Brian and, however pathetic it was, only Brian. He had to figure out what to do. He couldn't let Brian run from him, from them. A few minutes later, he was driving home. He sighed sadly when he passed the diner. But then he smiled. Brightly. He'd caught sight of Brian in the distance, walking. Justin slowed down and pressed the button to open the passenger's side window. Then he called out, his voice a sexy purr, "Hey, baby, need a ride?"

Brian just blinked. Then he asked, his voice flat, empty of everything, "Where's Joe?"

"Get in the car, Brian. Let me drive you home."

Brian shook his head, and in that same empty voice, replied, "I feel like walking."

Justin clenched his jaw, threw the car in park, and jumped out. He pushed Brian up against the nearest wall and hissed, "You are so fucking infuriating!"

Then he crushed his lips against Brian's and thrust his tongue into his mouth. Brian didn't kiss him back. He just stood there, motionless.

Justin pulled away and sighed. "What the fuck, Brian? I know you want me. Twenty minutes ago, you were all over me and so hard I could have felt your erection from Mars."

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

Exasperated and embarrassed, but smiling, Justin said softly, "Well, you know what I mean." He sighed and shook his head. He looked down for a long moment, but when he lifted his eyes, everything was gone, but that thing Brian had done all this to prevent Justin from expressing. The words.

In a small voice, trembling with vulnerability, Justin began, "Brian, I…"

Brian interrupted, his voice sharp and angry, "Don't."

Justin flushed in embarrassment. "What?"

"Don't." Then more softly, a hint of desperation in his voice, he added, "Please…don't."

Justin knew it was stupid. And it ran counter to everything he'd thought when he'd done what Brian had wanted him to do, when he'd gone off with Joe. It was just so hard keep the words in. He was tired of lies and pretence. Of games. He just wanted to lay his cards on the table. But, looking into Brian's now-dead eyes, he was scared. Fucking terrified. So, in the end, he lied. "I…I couldn't do it."

Relieved but confused, Brian asked, "What?"

Justin laughed nervously. "You know me…too shy."

Brian's chest tightened. He didn't really want to know, but, at the same time, he did. So his words came out in a stammer. At first. "Wh-what happened?"

Justin turned red and looked down as he confessed, "Joe wanted to suck me off. Even had my dick in his mouth…but…"

Brian gritted his teeth. The image of Mr. Perfect down on his knees sucking Justin's dick had Brian seething. It took everything in him to reply evenly, "But what?"

"I couldn't do it."

Brian released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He smiled, his voice lilting. "Surely you've had your dick sucked before."

Justin laughed and blushed an even deeper red. "Of course…but…"

Brian couldn't keep the edge from coming back into his voice. He was most definitely conflicted. He was glad Justin had stopped things with Joe, but he didn't really want to hear why. He needed Justin to leave him out of everything, but, at the same time, he felt like punching someone, particularly an attractive, boring cuddler, every time Justin mentioned Joe. He prompted, a little reluctantly, "But…"

Justin closed his eyes. He didn't want to answer. Because he couldn't answer honestly. Because he'd have to lie, and however relieved Brian might have been that Justin wasn't forcing him to face his feelings, to admit them out loud, the lie might hurt him. Justin knew he shouldn't care. Brian had brought this on himself. He'd pushed him into Joe's arms, urging Justin to fuck him. However, despite everything, he did care. Course…if he were to have any hope of someday being Brian's…

Brian, getting impatient, repeated, "But…"

"But…I couldn't do it." Justin swallowed hard. Then he continued, "He's too beautiful. Too perfect." Justin covered his face with his hands (because what he was about to say couldn't but make him smile and blush; what he was doing was pitiful, and he knew it). "What if…when it comes down to it…I suck…and not in…"

Tongue-in-cheek, Brian supplied, "A positive life-affirming way?"

Justin turned around, away from Brian, and nodded. "Yeah." What he was doing was so wrong. But, in this moment, he needed Brian to fuck him like he needed air to breathe. He'd do whatever it took.

Brian smirked. This was perfect. He could do Justin 'a favor' without worrying about breaking any of his rules. He could fuck Justin as many times as he liked, and neither of them would need to make any heartfelt confessions. Justin wasn't a trick. He was…a friend. Brian would simply be giving his friend a helping hand. He moved closer to Justin, nudging his ear with his nose, and whispered huskily, "Maybe I pushed baby bird out of the nest too soon."

Justin shivered at the contact. When Brian moved from behind him and headed toward the car, Justin smiled brightly, but shook his head. He was pathetic. They were both pathetic. Well…Shakespeare'd said it himself: "The course of _true love never did run smooth."_

So Justin walked around to the driver's side. Then he asked, as coolly as he could manage, "Your place or mine?"

"Yours." Brian didn't want to fuck Justin in his bed. Not where he'd had anyone else. Though, of course, he was unlikely to ever admit that, not even under pain of death.

TBC…(later tonight, I promise)


	26. The Things We Must Do

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I hope you enjoy it.

If Justin could have laughed, he would have had a nice long chuckle at himself. But he was too tense to even smile. The irony was, what Justin had said about Joe might end up being true about Brian. Justin was so excited and nervous (bordering on frightened). Brian was too beautiful. Too perfect. Justin was afraid he could never measure up, never please him. Worse yet, Justin would have to be completely naked in front of him. So following the five-minute drive back to his house, he was well on his way to a full-blown panic. In fact, when he opened the car door, he nearly fell out, he dropped his keys (twice) when he was trying to unlock the apartment door, and he bumped into a table while trying to switch on the lights. If Brian hadn't have caught Justin, slipping an arm around his waist, he would have tumbled to the floor for sure.

Justin was already trembling a little. But the trembling just got worse when Brian whispered into his ear, "Relax, Sunshine. It's just fucking." Justin poured all of his willpower into trying to follow Brian's advice, but, apparently, nothing less than divine intervention (and that of a higher power than Brian) would stop the trembling.

A moment later Brian spun Justin around in his arms. Then he growled, "Did you kiss him?"

Justin was so surprised (by the spin and the question) that he barely managed a "What?"

Brian smiled. He liked how easy it was for him to throw Justin. He repeated slowly, seductively, all the while looking into Justin's eyes, "Did . You. Kiss. Joe?"

Justin flushed, partly in embarrassment (he really didn't want to talk about Joe…to be reminded about what he'd almost let Joe do) and partly in pleasure (Brian was sooo jealous). He answered firmly, as firmly as he could manage, "No."

Justin could see a hint of a smile cross Brian's lips before they came crashing down onto his. Then Brian's tongue was in his mouth, his hands in Justin's hair, pulling and clawing as Brian tried to close what little space remained between them. Justin slid his hands around Brian's neck to get the leverage he needed to kiss Brian back as forcefully. Brian's lips were so soft, yet firm, his mouth so warm, and his kiss so deep and passionate that Justin's heart kept stopping. He never wanted this moment to end. Especially when Brian started grinding against him. That caused waves of the most intense, pleasurable heat to rain down and course through him. He was still trembling, and the disparate sensations, hot and cold, shaking and tingling, combined to make him feel as though his body were a live wire, rippling with electricity. He felt so alive, yet so completely out of control. At that point, if Justin hadn't been gripping Brian's neck so tightly, he would have slid to the floor, his body a pile of Jell-o. Unfortunately for Justin, they did eventually break apart, but their kiss left them both panting and breathless and Justin's entire body tinged with red. He'd never been more turned on in his life.

And Brian? He'd never kissed anyone as often or as long as he'd kissed Justin, now or ever. He generally considered kissing the first volley in his effort to conquer, particularly with so-called straight guys (or notorious tops). But kissing Justin was nothing like that. He enjoyed it, so much, more than he'd ever be comfortable admitting, but the whole time, Brian felt as though he were struggling…he wasn't quite sure against what or why. Maybe just struggling to remain a separate person, to not be conquered himself.

Justin looked into Brian's dark, intense eyes, now a deep brown, and swallowed hard. He wasn't sure what to do (obviously he knew the mechanics of sex, and had done a fair amount of fucking in his life, but this situation was like facing a buffet of all your favorite foods…he didn't know what to 'sample' first). He inquired, a little nervously, "Do…do you want me to suck your dick?"

Brian licked his lips as he ran a finger over Justin's own (Justin wanted to do a back flip when he felt Brian's cock jump at the words 'suck your dick'). Brian most certainly did want those plump lips wrapped around his cock. But not yet. He needed to be inside Justin as soon as possible. So he mumbled, "Later" against Justin's lips before thrusting his tongue into Justin's mouth once more and picking him up. Justin wrapped his legs around Brian's waist, let his eyes flutter closed, and then allowed himself to fall back into the dizzying heat, kissing Brian hungrily as he carried Justin into the bedroom.

Brian actually crawled onto the bed, still kissing Justin, before letting go. Justin whimpered softly when Brian disengaged, trembling even harder in response to the chill Brian left where his searing lips and body had once been. Still Justin smiled, his eyes sparkling. This was really happening. That is, until Brian started to pull Justin's shirt off. Then his eyes widened and filled with fear. He sat up quickly, moving so that he was sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from Brian, his legs hanging over the edge. Brian got up on his knees, observing Justin closely as he rolled his lips into his mouth. Brian needed to get Justin over his body hang ups. And fast. He watched Justin pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor, noting his terrified expression when Justin glanced back. Then he watched Justin stand up and remove his jeans (and shoes and socks). Finally, he watched Justin turn toward the headboard and lie down. Justin had managed to keep his stomach out of sight the entire time. Brian ran his hand slowly upward along Justin's back, relishing in his soft skin, but then he brought his hand back down and slapped Justin's ass. Justin laughed in pleasure and shock. Brian whispered huskily, "Roll over."

Justin raised his head in alarm. Then he asked breathlessly, "What?"

Brian repeated, a little more loudly, "Roll over."

His voice desperate, Justin protested, "But Brian…"

"I want to see you…and, more importantly, I want you to see me."

Justin buried his face in his pillow for a moment, but then, hesitantly, he rolled over. He couldn't even look at Brian. Not until Brian climbed off the bed and started stripping. The second he saw Brian unveiling the first inch of his beautiful bronze skin, Justin's eyes were glued to his body. He was so mesmerized that he didn't even think to cover his belly.

Watching Brian undress was better than watching him wash in the shower. Soon, Justin would be able to touch every inch of Brian's beautiful body, not just his back. It was even better than jerking off to Brian's voice or jerking Brian off…soon that huge cock would be deep inside him, filling him up, pounding into him. With that thought, Justin's cock started to throb and precum bubbled out of his slit. When Brian was completely naked, he lifted his arms over his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and smiled. Then he narrowed his eyes and climbed back onto the bed. The silky blond hair on Justin's arms, legs, and chest, so light it was almost invisible, bristled in anticipation as Brian climbed over him. When Brian reached Justin's head, he kissed Justin's lips gently and then fell to the side, his head resting on his arm. He stared at Justin intently for a moment, but then rolled onto his back. Then in a husky whisper, he demanded, "Ride me."

Justin swallowed hard, but sat up on his knees. Brian moved to the center of the bed. Justin straddled him. Justin couldn't even look at Brian. His stomach was right in Brian's face. He grabbed a blanket off a chair next to the bed and wrapped it around his waist. Only then could he lift his eyes. His face was beet red. But Brian wasn't having any of that. He whispered, "Don't hide. Confidence is hot." Then he started pulling the blanket away.

Justin protested, his voice tinged with desperation and fear, "Brian, don't. Please."

Brian ignored him. He pushed the blanket off Justin and ran his hands down Justin's sides to his ass and then back up over his belly. Justin stared into Brian's eyes the entire time, looking for the faintest flicker of disgust. But all he could see was desire. Justin's breath caught in his throat when Brian's eyes met his once more. Still looking deep into Justin's eyes, Brian threaded his fingers into Justin's hair and pulled him down, down, down, until their lips met. Then he plunged his tongue into Justin's mouth, kissing him hungrily. He kissed Justin deeper and deeper, drawing him closer and closer. When Brian finally broke their kiss, Justin was a little dizzy, his lips red and swollen. Yet he managed to grab the lube and a condom from the nightstand. He rolled the condom onto Brian's hard, leaking cock and slicked it with lube. Then he started impaling himself on it slowly. Brian slid his hands down to Justin's ass, squeezing and rubbing, but not pulling Justin down, though he was dying to do just that.

When Brian was ensconced in Justin, the moment they were fully joined, Brian's eyes widened and he actually moaned, and loudly (Justin was so fucking tight), an abnormal response for him during sex. Brian usually managed to remain silent while fucking, except for some occasional panting. He didn't like his partners to know whether or not they were pleasing him. He liked to be completely in control. At that same moment, Justin, in contrast, shut his eyes tight and threw back his head, his breathing shallow and almost soundless. After a few heartbeats, Justin started moving again, slowly riding Brian's dick, his eyes closed the whole time. Brian watched, rapt. Justin's mouth was open slightly, his skin damp and flushed. When Justin licked his lips, which were still red and swollen, Brian lost it. He flipped Justin onto his back, lifted Justin's legs onto his shoulders, and began thrusting. Not fast, but deep. Meanwhile, he licked the sweat off of Justin's skin. This quickly progressed to sucking on every inch of skin Brian could reach. Justin's neck, his chest, his shoulders…then came the biting. But nothing sated Brian's desire to consume Justin. And Justin's soft moans, roaming hands, and that intense look in his now-open eyes just caused the ache in Brian's chest to grow. Brian stared at Justin for a moment, gaping a little. As ridiculous as it sounded, Brian felt like he was falling, like Justin's eyes, no longer filled with fear or even simple lust, but something transcending everything physical, were drawing him in. Brian couldn't breathe, and his heart stubbornly refused to beat. Then he was kissing Justin, clawing at his shoulders, pulling hair, all the while thrusting into Justin, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, faster and faster. They were sweating and writhing and moaning through kisses, no longer conscious of anything but desperate need and the single inferno of heat coursing through both their bodies. Then they were cumming, still kissing, moaning louder, and clawing at each other like animals. Brian didn't even remember touching Justin's cock, but it erupted all over his chest nonetheless. Then they were holding onto each other so tightly, like their lives depended on it, and gasping for air. Squeezing their eyes shut to stave off dizziness, to reorient themselves.

Once Brian regained his balance, he carried Justin into the bathroom. They showered until the hot water ran out, running soapy hands all over each other's bodies and kissing, sometimes soft and tender, sometimes rough and desperate. Brian couldn't get enough, of touching Justin and especially of kissing him. If he'd thought about it, his urgent need for that kind of connection would have scared him, would have sent him running. As far and as fast as he could possibly go.

After two blow jobs and a few more fucks, Justin was laying in Brian's arms. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon. In the dim light, Justin gazed at Brian, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Justin's chest ached, and he felt a little like crying, though he didn't. He wouldn't. Instead he whispered the words that had been thrumming through his body all night, the words he thought might eat him alive if he didn't express them. In the softest of whispers, so soft he could barely hear his own voice, he breathed, "I love you, Brian. So much." Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

TBC…


	27. Better to Have Not Loved and Not Lost?

A/N: Sorry I've been MIA for a while. R/L's been kicking my butt. I hope this is the start of my getting back to a regular schedule (and that you enjoy this part...I'm feeling a little rusty).

Brian didn't sleep at all while in bed with Justin. He closed his eyes and waited until Justin fell asleep and then opened them back up and pulled him close. He spent the next few hours touching Justin, running his fingers lightly over his arms and back, nuzzling his neck, and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Brian watched him sleep and listened to him breathe. And he thought. He let himself ponder possibilities he never would have considered before Justin: being a boyfriend, promising fidelity, expressing the strange feelings Justin's mere presence in his life was causing him to experience. He contemplated the repercussions of doing nothing, continuing to pretend to be just friends with Justin. Would Justin become frustrated and end their whatever the fuck it was? Would he pursue Joe in earnest, sharing the details of their courtship in an effort to get Brian jealous? Would Brian be jealous? It pained Brian to admit, even to himself, that he would be. Most definitely. But Brian Kinney didn't do jealousy. And whatever he'd said to Mikey, drunk on alcohol and Justin (Justin's soft moans still ringing in his ears, Justin's scent lingering in his nostrils, and Justin's kisses and caresses still burning Brian's skin), Brian Kinney didn't do boyfriends. He didn't do love. He didn't do fidelity. Or promises of any kind. He was in way over his head, and he knew it. So he did what he had to, to stave off hyperventilation and suffocating fear: He carefully extricated himself from Justin's arms and legs, dressed like the apartment was on fire, and got the fuck out of there. He didn't leave a note. But, in spite of himself, he did kiss Justin's cheek and run his fingers through Justin's hair one last time. And it would be the last, Brian had decided. Clearly he couldn't be just friends with Justin, but he couldn't be something more, either. His only option was to abandon ship. Before he drowned.

******

"Daph! God, it's been months since you called!"

"Sorry, the village I was working in didn't even have land lines let alone cell phone towers."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm being an asshole. I know the people in Namibia need health care more than I need my best friend…"

"What's wrong?"

"Men suck."

"Uh..I hate to break this to you, Justin, but you're a man."

"You know what I mean."

"So who's the asshole?"

After a heavy sigh, Justin breathed, "Brian…"

"What did he do?"

Justin threw himself into his recliner, leaned his head back against the head rest, and closed his eyes. "I don't know…stuff…things."

Daphne sat down on the nearest curb and started brushing sand and dirt off her legs. She hadn't had time to wash or change before her plane had departed so she was still wearing khaki shorts and a short-sleeved white blouse made of lightweight material, still sweaty, still covered in the sand and dirt that always seemed to be everywhere on the edges of the Central Plateau, carried on the wind from the adjacent desert. Daphne laughed softly. "Uh…you're going to have to be more specific." She couldn't help but smile, and brightly, when Justin sighed once more. Even heavier than the first time. He was such a drama princess.

"It's so complicated. And stupid…I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. Come on, just tell me. And give me the short version. My plane leaves in an hour, and I have to go back through security."

"I met Brian at Roy's."

"Oh God, Roy's! I've missed that place sooo much. Tomorrow, you and I are going. I'm going to order two whole meals and eat every bite. Even if that means I'll gain ten pounds."

"Sounds good to me. Maybe…eh…never mind. So I met Brian at Roy's, and we sort of became friends. But I was attracted to him. More attracted to him than I'd been to anyone else. Ever."

That wasn't surprising. Justin lived to desire, and not like most men. His desire had emotional/intellectual components. A pretty face alone rarely did it for him.

"I mean…I was fantasizing about him constantly."

Again, not too surprising. The only surprise was that the object of his desire was a real person, and not some hot actor. During sexual droughts, Justin often had fantasy relationships with minor celebrities whom he admired. The longest had been a comedian with political leanings. Intelligent, talented, and, in Justin's eyes, beautiful. That fantasy relationship had lasted an entire year, by Daphne's count.

"And he was attracted to me, too, but he's kind of a player. He's never had a boyfriend. He's never wanted one. And he's sooo beautiful. Way out of my league. He asked me why I didn't date or trick…that kind of put me on the spot because he was the reason. So I made someone up. Someone who'd never want me, but whom I wanted all the same. Then Brian decides to help me land the guy. It's weird, but that actually brought us closer. We kept using the made-up guy as an excuse to fool around."

"Huh?"

"For example, I said I was worried about being able to give good phone sex, so we did that a couple of times. You know, for practice."

"Oh Justin…"

"I know. I'm sad as hell. And I don't know…a lot of things happened…half the time, I was 'practicing' for the made-up guy, and half the time Brian was jealous and fucking with me. But then, a few days ago, Brian and I had sex, and not just once. We spent the entire night fucking…"

"Let me guess, he ran for the hills after that."

Justin ran his hand over his face and sighed. "It's my fault."

"What? Why?"

Justin swallowed hard. "Because…because I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut."

"What did you say?"

"That I loved him."

"You told a commitment phobe that you loved him?"

"Yes. But I mean, I thought he was asleep. And I don't know for sure that he wasn't. But he hasn't called me since…"

"Did you call him?"

"No! Hell no! I mean, if he's freaking out, that would be the worst thing I could do."

"I've always found honesty to be the best policy."

Justin huffed a laugh. "And how many healthy, long-term relationships have you had?"

Daphne smiled. "You made your point."

"Lying and game playing are a fact of life in relationships. Don't get me wrong…you and I are usually the same. We fall hard and pour our guts out, and, then, the guy flees like it's the scene of a crime. Or…stays and treats us like crap. This time, I've been trying something different, and it seemed to be working, but I just don't know if I'm up to it. As much as I want him, and, fuck, I do, and as much as I love him, and, again, I really, really do, I think I should probably just throw in the towel. I have enough memories to get me through a thousand orgasms, and I bet fantasy-Brian's much better at relationships than flesh-and-blood Brian."

"Justin, how many times do I have to tell you? Living in your head and hiding from the world is sooo unhealthy."

"I know…It's just…getting over Ethan was so hard. I mean, he was an asshole, and our relationship was toxic, but I still have nightmares about him sometimes. Seeing him and his new boyfriend together. They're always so happy…and they mock me. Maybe I'm just not boyfriend material."

"You so are! You just pick the wrong guys."

"The heart wants what it wants."

"Exactly, and your heart does _not_ want fantasy-Brian. Fantasy-Brian is _not_ Brian. You shouldn't settle for anything less than the real thing."

"I don't even know what to do anymore. I was kind of winging it as it was. And now…I'm tired. So tired."

"Look, I'll be home by tomorrow morning. I'll come over. We'll have a few pots of coffee and figure it out. Shit, I didn't realize it was so late. I gotta go. Stop freaking out. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay?"

Justin sighed again. This time more softly. "Okay."

TBC…later tonight or tomorrow


	28. Serendipity

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. SMASH.

Brian's alarm was now in a million pieces on the floor.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. THUD. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!" CRASH. The offending object, a one-of-a kind and extremely expensive chrome and glass Mies van der Rohe end table, was now bent and broken. Brian had thrown it so hard against the wall that most of the glass was, not in shards, but dust. It looked like one of the piles of glitter littering the dance floor just before close at Babylon. Brian hopped the rest of the way to the bathroom. The hot water did little to ease the pain. In fact, by the time Brian exited the shower, his (big) toe had swollen up, and his nail looked reddish-black. Brian rolled his head in a half-circle backward to get the kinks out of his neck (he'd been sleeping funny lately, waking up with various aches and pains every day this week). The shower had been almost useless (except at getting him clean). Brian tested his toe, putting more weight on it. Less than a second later, it was back in the air. "Fucking Christ!" He might have to go to the emergency room.

Brian managed to dress, all except his right foot. He couldn't get a sock on, let alone a shoe. Brian would need someone to drive him first to the hospital and then to work. Brian pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit 1 without thinking. After two rings, a sleepy voice answered, "Lo."

Brian shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd forgotten that he bumped Mikey to 2 shortly after meeting Justin. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Brian was at a loss. Should he simply hang up? Say hello? In the end, he opted for the latter. Justin would know that he'd called from the caller ID anyway.

"Justin, it's…"

"Brian?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You sound funny. Are you in pain?"

Brian smiled a little in spite of himself (and his aching foot). From their first dinner together, Justin had been able to read him and understand him in ways people he'd known most of his life couldn't, didn't. But then he sighed. He wasn't supposed to brighten like a light bulb just talking to Justin. He wasn't supposed to feel a dull ache in his chest because they hadn't spoken in a few days. He didn't even know what to say to Justin. He'd snuck out the morning after they fucked, like a coward, although that was kinder than the goodbye he usually gave his sexual partners ("See you never" or "Get the fuck out"). And…he'd been avoiding Justin since. Again, cowardly. But Brian thought it kinder than brushing Justin off.

In a near panic, Justin asked, "Brian? Are you still there?"

Brian decided to be honest about the reason for the call. Excluding the fact that he'd dialed Justin's number by accident, why he didn't even want to contemplate. "I think I broke my toe. I need someone to drive me to the hospital."

"I can come right over, but I need your address." All Brian heard in Justin's voice was concern. No disappointment. No anger. No hurt. Brian wasn't sure whether he was relieved or disconcerted by this reaction.

"I can call Mikey if you want to go back to sleep…"

"No, no. I'm up. I'm up."

"51 Tremont. Apartment 6."

"K. See you soon."

Brian hit the end button, hopped over to the couch, and lay down, propping his right foot up on a couple of cushions. With the press of a button, he'd shot his plan to shit, and his resolve was weakening. With the press of a button, he'd shot everything to shit. Brian had kept Justin away from the loft because he didn't want thoughts of Justin to plague him everywhere he went, but now, Justin was on his way here. Ten minutes later, the bell sounded. Brian pulled himself to his feet, or, more accurately, to his foot (his left one), and hopped over to the door. Brian buzzed Justin in without a word of greeting. Now that Justin was actually here, Brian's unease was growing exponentially. Brian slid the door open and leaned against the jamb, pounding his fist lightly against the door. Normally, he would have been pacing, but that was out of the question at the moment.

Justin breezed past Brian, setting a bag of…were those frozen peas? on the coffee table, a move that would have had Brian reeling if he hadn't been leaning on the door jamb. Brian hopped around so that he was facing Justin and gasped a little when he realized that Justin was now directly in front of him, very close, and smiling, like all was right with the world. What the fuck? Brian was full of anxiety, and Justin was completely relaxed, or so it seemed. Brian was starting to get annoyed. Why wasn't Justin nervous? And what was up with the fucking peas?

Justin slid next to Brian and wrapped an arm around his waist, throwing Brian's arm around his shoulder and guiding him to the couch.

"Lie down."

"What?"

"Lie down." Justin's tone was firmer now, and, for some strange reason, Brian responded to the authority in it, following his instruction. Justin lifted Brian's legs, sat next to him on the couch, gently lay Brian's foot on the two cushions, which were now on Justin's lap, and started examining his toe.

"You probably don't have to go to the hospital. You just need to elevate your foot, ice it, and take some ibuprofen. But you should stay home, at least until the swelling goes down."

"What, are you Florence fucking Nightingale now?"

"No. But my best friend Daphne is. That's what she told my mom to do when she broke her toe kicking my dad."

Brian's eyebrow shot up.

Justin chuckled. "My dad used to be a kickboxer. He told her to kick him. He was bragging about still being as in shape as he was in college. And maybe he was. She did break her toe on him."

Justin got up, gently placing Brian's foot back on the cushion once he was standing, carefully set the peas on top of Brian's foot, and then went into the kitchen in search of a glass. He returned a moment later, handing Brian a glass of water and two pills.

"Here." He lifted Brian's legs again, repositioning himself, the cushions, and Brian's foot. Then he picked up the remote. "Want to watch some TV?"

Brian just stared for a moment, but then said, "Sure."

Justin clicked it on and began channel surfing. "Ooo, _The Price is Right_. I bet you're really good at guessing."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm in advertising, not marketing or sales." He shrugged. "But yeah, I am."

TBC…I might write a bit more later


	29. Unbearable Things

During a commercial break, Brian asked, "So have you heard from Joe?"

Justin was beginning to hate that name. He muted the TV and shrugged. "Yeah, he emailed me the day before yesterday." That was a total lie. It wasn't so hard now, not after Brian bailed on him. Justin was certain, in a way he hadn't been before, that Brian wanted him to lie. And now he fully understood the consequences of telling the truth.

Brian nodded slowly. "What did he say?" Justin's heart leapt when Brian's voice faltered (on 'what').

"He said that he was glad he'd run into me and that he hoped we could go out one night."

"Ah." More slow nodding. "What did you say?"

"Nothing yet."

"You should tell him yes."

"Are you hungry? I'm famished."

"I could eat." Justin was relieved. He didn't want to talk about Joe anymore. In fact, never again would work for him.

"There's an excellent organic bakery not too far from here. The bagels are so soft and tasty, you don't even have to toast them. And their strawberry cream cheese has real strawberries in it. Delicious."

"Works for me."

**********

A minute or two after Justin left the loft, his cell phone rang. "Hello."

"Where the hell are you? I've been knocking for ten minutes!"

"Shit Daph, I'm sorry. There was…an emergency."

Daphne sighed. "A Brian emergency?"

Justin hung his head. He was so pathetic. "Yeah. He broke his toe, and he actually called me."

"And you just ran right over?"

"Yeah. But I'd just woken up…"

"He woke you up, too?"

"Yeah. Look I know I'm sad. A sad, sad, sad man. But it was the first time he'd called in days. I thought he was done with me."

"I brought bagels. Your favorite kind."

"From Noah's?"

"Yup."

"Shit, I'm sorry. Funny thing…I'm actually headed there, getting bagels for Brian and me." After a pause, he added, "I could just give him the bagels and leave."

Daphne huffed a laugh. "No _way_ are you doing that. You're just suggesting it, knowing full well that I'll let you off the hook."

"Maybe. Okay. Yeah."

"You don't deserve me."

"I know."

"So…call me after you leave Brian's."

"You're an angel."

"Whatever."

**********

Brian knew he should have said he wasn't hungry. That, in fact, he was tired. Then Justin would have left, and Brian could have gone back to trying to pretend he didn't exist. But of course, that hadn't been working out too well. He hadn't been tricking or sleeping. And at work, he'd screamed at Cynthia so loudly and so long (for something minor) that she'd gone home and refused to come back until he offered her a raise.

Now that Justin was here, he didn't want him to leave. And he could have made that happen so easily. He could call any one of a number of men who would come right over and start sucking him off, with Justin in the room. Surely that would send him packing, probably forever. Especially if he chose a skinny blond. And break that cool Justin was miraculously exhibiting. The problem was, as unnerved as Brian was, he didn't want to hurt Justin. Something about Justin brought out his protective side. Very inconvenient.

Even if Brian were capable of being honest with Justin, which he certainly was not, honesty wouldn't help. If he said, "This isn't working out," Justin would simply say, "What isn't working out? We're just friends." This is why he'd always had the no-fucking friends rule. Fucking friends was complicated and generally involved feelings. Well that was blown to shit. Brian could just keep pushing Justin toward Joe, but that he could only make a half-assed effort to do. He didn't want Justin with Joe. And none of this would get Brian's dick sucked. He couldn't trick if he was mooning over Justin. And he couldn't go on much longer without sex, or he'd end up breaking everything in the loft and losing an assistant. He could just start fucking Justin regularly, trying to keep it casual, but that, again, was impossible. Like it or not, Brian cared about Justin, and he'd lost the urge to fuck anyone else (at least temporarily). And fucking Justin and no one else meant, by definition, that he was in a relationship. Those were his choices. Be in a relationship with Justin or try to forget Justin existed and spend a few weeks breaking things and alienating people even more than he already did. Pretty crappy choices.

Brian ended up trying not to think about what he was doing. Ten minutes after Justin had left to get bagels, Brian decided to change into jeans and a wife beater. So he hopped over and into the bedroom, grabbed the aforementioned clothes and set them on the bed, and then started removing his suit. Justin rang the bell the second Brian was naked. Brian smiled. He had perfect timing. Then he hopped back over to the loft door and slid it open. Justin's eyes widened the second they lighted on Brian.

This caused Justin to flush and shiver. Now that had been the reaction Brian was expecting when Justin first entered the loft. Nervousness and desire. Brian's eyes darkened, and he smirked as Justin raked his eyes down Brian's chest and belly, stopping at Brian's groin. Justin unconsciously licked his lips. Brian spoke, but Justin didn't hear him, not until Brian had called his name a few times. "Justin. Justin. Justin."

"Huh?"

Brian chuckled.

"I said, 'I was changing when you came back. I left my clothes in the bedroom. Mind getting them for me? I really don't want to hop back over there.'"

"Oh sure."

Justin was not going to lean in, brush his lips against Brian's, and push his tongue inside Brian's mouth. Nope. He was not going to drop to his knees and suck Brian off. Nope. He was not going to beg Brian to fuck him. Nope. He was going to toast bagels and watch daytime TV. He was. Really.

TBC…(very soon)


	30. More Unbearable Things

Brian honestly believed that his being naked would be all the inducement Justin needed to make a move. On any other day, he would've been right. Today, he was wrong. Dead wrong. As much as Justin wanted Brian, and he did, so much that every inch of his skin prickled, Justin didn't want to be the one to make the first move. Not this time. If Brian wanted Justin, he would need to come up with his own crappy excuse, be the one to initiate things. Yup. Justin might be in love with Brian (and overweight), and Brian might be beautiful and way, way, way out of Justin's league, but Brian clearly desired Justin (his cock, which was half-erect already, though only a minute or two had passed since Justin had returned to the loft, was proof enough of that)…and Brian had wanted to see his body, all of it, when they'd fucked…he'd even touched Justin's midsection, caressing it and (as Barney Inkin) placing open-mouthed kisses all over it. Brian had also declared, "Confidence is hot." So Justin was going to act confident and aloof. Like he was not the least bit stirred by Brian's nakedness. Even if it was a big lie. Even if it killed him (Justin had been a bit melodramatic these days, since he'd woken up alone after their night together). Justin flashed Brian a warm but chaste smile as he handed Brian his clothes and immediately turned to enter the kitchen. Not even looking at Brian, he asked, "I got plain, poppy seed, and honey wheat bagels, as well as strawberry, honey walnut, and sun-dried tomato and dill cream cheese. What's your poison?"

Brian just stood there, by the door (it was still open), holding his clothes. What the fuck?

"Brian?"

Brian shook his head. Then he growled, "Whatever." He suddenly had the urge to kick something.

"You really don't have a preference?"

A very clipped "no" was his response. Then he had an idea. He slid the loft door closed and turned toward the kitchen. "Justin, I need help."

Justin looked up. "Huhn. Dressing?"

"Yeah."

"Ummm…okay." Justin tried to keep his eyes on the floor as he walked over to Brian. He definitely did not notice how the sunlight streaming in through the windows accentuated the bronze of his skin (or brought out the red and blond in his hair). Nope. Or how lithe he looked now that he was out of his suit. Nope. Or how erect his nipples were from the chill in the room. Nope. Or how his cock was now fully erect, a drop of precum glistening on the tip. Nope, nope, nope.

Brian's smile had returned and his annoyance receded.

Brian handed Justin his jeans. Justin looked at Brian, allowing his eyes to flit down his body, and swallowed hard. Then he kneeled. Justin wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Kneeling in between Brian's legs to dress him was both comically surreal and torture. Brian placed his hands on Justin's shoulders to keep himself steady. Justin shook his head and bunched up the right leg of the jeans, picked up Brian's injured foot, and carefully slid it through the opening. Justin laughed. That was something he'd often done for his sister when she was a toddler.

"What?"

Justin shook his head. "Nothing."

Brian quirked an eyebrow.

Through giggles, he replied, "Really nothing."

Justin gingerly set Brian's injured foot down and did the same with Brian's other leg. Then he stood. Brian placed both hands around Justin's waist so that he didn't fall, and Justin started inching Brian's jeans up. The whole time he was looking into Brian's eyes, trying to breathe. Brian, of course, was smiling. Particularly when Justin's hands brushed over his ass, and Justin turned bright red.

Justin whispered, "I think you can do the rest yourself."

But Brian shook his head. "You'd better, just to be safe."

Justin swallowed hard again and looked down at Brian's groin. Then he grabbed Brian's cock, which caused Brian to draw his breath in sharply and Justin's dick to start throbbing, tucked it into Brian's jeans and zipped and buttoned them. Finally, Brian handed Justin his shirt. Justin sighed. Then he slipped it over Brian's head and waited for Brian to push his arms through the arm holes. Brian was moving like molasses. Clearly, he was trying to torment Justin. To torment him into doing something stupid. Like kissing his surprisingly soft, yet firm lips. Like licking the curve of his neck and then sucking and nibbling on every bit of skin he could reach. Like sliding his hands over Brian's small firm ass and grinding his erection against Brian's. But. But Justin wasn't going to be the one. Not this time.

When the scent of Brian and the warmth of his body had driven Justin nearly insane (this time, he no longer had the urge to laugh, just cry), Brian finally finished sliding his arms through the armholes.

Justin tugged Brian's shirt down gently, tracing his fingers along the expanse of Brian's chest and abdomen as he did so. His body was on fire, and he could barely think or breathe. Which is why Brian was so shocked when Justin did a quick about face and flew back into the kitchen, almost running he was walking so fast.

Fucking hell.

Brian watched Justin incredulously as he took one bagel out of the toaster (which Brian didn't even know he had), put another in, and started smearing cream cheese on the first.

Fucking hell.

Brian hopped into the kitchen, reaching Justin's side just as Justin tossed a quarter of one half of a plain bagel covered in strawberry cream cheese into his mouth.

He hissed (though he was smirking), "What the hell are you doing, Sunshine?"

Brian's use of the pet name he'd given Justin made Justin feel even warmer all over. He really wanted to jump the man, even more now, but, instead, he finished chewing and swallowed. Then he answered weakly, "Eating."

"Eating?"

"I was hungry. Aren't you?"

"We can eat later."

Justin's stomach did a flip-flop. Say what, now? But Justin wasn't going to let Brian off that easy. Justin gestured toward the toaster. The second bagel had just popped up. "They're toasted already. You can't untoast a bagel, Brian."

"Fuck the bagel." Then he tossed the bagel Justin was eating and the bagel that had just popped up into the trash.

Justin complained, "What…"

"In fact, fuck all the bagels!"

Brian grabbed all three bags and was about to toss them in the trash when Justin grabbed Brian's wrists. "Okay, wait. Let's not get carried away." Justin carefully took the bags of untoasted bagels out of Brian's hand and set them on the counter. The second he'd done so, Brian grabbed Justin, pulling him into his arms. Justin smiled. "If you wanted to fuck, you should've just said, "Let's fu—.'" The last sound came out muffled as Brian plunged his tongue into Justin's mouth.

TBC…(I know. I'm the most evil person on the planet, etc., etc. But now, I'm hungry, so I need to take a break)


	31. The Part Where Everyone Is Miserable

Brian moved them closer to the island and, in (his injured state and) his haste to push Justin against some hard surface (and to bend him over the aforementioned hard surface), actually fell into Justin. Justin grabbed Brian by the waist to steady him, but then turned them around so that Brian was leaning against the island. So eager was Justin, so full of pent up longing and desire, that he yanked Brian's wife beater over his head and unzipped, unbuttoned, and pulled Brian's jeans down and off in a matter of seconds (though he was careful with Brian's injured foot). Such an onslaught it was, Brian had to hold onto the counter to keep himself upright. That was even more true when Justin dropped to his knees and deepthroated Brian's cock.

"Oh FUCK!" Four days was the longest Brian had gone without sexual activity (orgasms involving others) since puberty; Justin's lips were…fucking perfect, soft, but firm and plump; and Justin was sucking and swallowing like his life depended on it. Two Oh FUCK's later, Brian was blinded, thrusting, arching, and exploding.

Afterward, Brian had clung to Justin, his face nuzzled in Justin's neck, breathing him in. Then they had retreated to the bedroom, Justin walking and Brian hobbling, toe, heel, heel. Once in bed, Brian had removed Justin's clothes and, Justin sitting up, leaning back on his arms, alternately licked, kissed, nibbled, and sucked on nearly every inch of Justin's skin. He'd fucked Justin slow after that, alternately kissing him deep and licking and sucking on Justin's lips. Brian had never cum harder in his life. Then he'd fallen asleep with Justin's head resting on his chest, his fingers tangled in Justin's hair.

Brian woke up alone. He unconsciously ran his fingers over the wrinkled sheets where Justin had lain. Then he sat up, slid to the edge of the bed, and stood, careful not to put too much weight on his right foot. He hobbled to the bedroom door and down the stairs. And then into the living room, which was bathed, no, drowning in dying light. Brian sighed and looked around. He looked at the couch on which they'd sat to watch the _Price Is Right_. At the spot by the door where Justin had dressed Brian and at the spot by the kitchen island where Justin had undressed him a few minutes later. Brian usually regarded his living space as minimalist and tidy, but, now, it just seemed…empty. And cold. Nothing but bagels (and formerly frozen peas) to remind Brian that Justin had ever been there. Whatever Brian had wanted or thought he'd wanted, this…this wasn't it.

"So you just left?"

Justin nodded slowly, Daphne thought, a little desolately. Justin and Daphne were sitting side by side on the couch, their feet up on the coffee table, a bowl of extremely buttery popcorn set between them, a muted movie on the TV.

"Why?"

"I guess I just realized something today."

"What's that?"

"Brian expects things to just come to him. To come and to stay until he says it's time to leave. But that's not the way to make him mine. The way to win him is to play his game."

"His game?"

"Yeah…and it won't be easy. It'll probably be the hardest thing I've ever done."

"Is he worth all this trouble? All this effort?"

Justin flashed back to Brian holding Gus in his lap and telling him (softly, so softly) that he was "very pretty"…to Brian carrying Justin through the crowd at Babylon after he'd tripped…to Brian saying, "Just be yourself. Anyone who dismisses you because of your weight isn't worth your time" after the blond trick had insulted him…to the look on Brian's face when Justin had figured out who Brian had punched in the back room. And then came the sense impressions. The tickling of Brian's tongue tracing his belly button…the feel of Brian's hand in his at the warehouse…the burning flush on Justin's skin everywhere Brian's fingers roamed…the electricity Brian's mere proximity caused to spark…the choking weight in Justin's chest and the melting weightlessness he experienced whenever Brian leaned in to kiss him. And the pictures he hadn't posed for…the moments they'd shared that Brian had found worthy of preserving: Justin holding both of Gus's hands walking him to the bathroom, Justin holding Molly in his arms, dipping her and singing along to "Dancing Queen," Justin sleeping on the couch, his face nuzzling Brian's leg, Justin licking chocolate off of his face…

Justin could barely breathe. "He is. God, Daph, he really is."

"So what do you do?"

Justin shook his head. Then he furrowed his brow. "I…I'm not sure. Play as hard to get as I can manage, I guess."

Daphne patted Justin on the shoulder. "I can help you with that! It's easy."

"Is it, now?"

"Yup."

"Well then enlighten me, oh wise one…"

"One, don't call him. _Ever_. Two, when he calls you…"

Justin groaned. "_If_ he calls me…"

"He will. Trust."

Justin burst into a fit of giggles. "Okay, Ted Casablanca. You have _got_ to stop reading his gossip blog. Seriously. You never guess any of his blind items anyway!"

"I…so? I like reading about famous people and the hijinks they get up to…even if I don't know who's doing what…"

"Or whom!"

Daphne crossed her arms. "Yeah…whatever…so, um, two, _when_ he calls you, let it ring at least three times before answering and always pretend you're on your way out the door. Three, and this is the most important, do not, I repeat, _do not_ fuck him."

"But…"

"No!"

"Not even…"

"No!"

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"Okay, fine. Finish."

"What if I leave right after, like I did today?" Justin smiled hopefully.

"NO! No fucking of any kind under any circumstances. Not until he admits he's your boyfriend."

Justin sighed. "But…"

"No!"

Justin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Fine."

"Wait, where was I?"

"Four."

"Four…what was four again…oh yeah. Four, go out with Joe."

"What? No! No, no, no."

"You have to! Brian is super jealous of him, right? I mean, he created an online persona just to bash Joe, right?"

Justin smiled brightly. "Yeah. And he made a 'date' with me as Barney."

"There you go. He keeps _saying_ that he wants you with Joe, but your actually being with Joe is another thing altogether."

"True." Justin sighed.

"This was your idea. The only way to win him, you said."

"I know…I know."

Justin sighed again and got up from the couch, walking slowly, zombie like, to the computer. He pulled up one of the dating sites, the one Joe had emailed him from, and clicked Joe's username. Then he clicked send message.

Joe,

I'm sorry about the other night. I guess things were moving a bit too fast for me. But…I'd like to see you again. Maybe we could go out sometime.

Justin

"Done." Justin suddenly felt nauseous.

Brian lay in bed, watching the shadows lengthen until they vanished.

TBC…


	32. Dreaming

-

_Wednesday night_

Justin,

I was so pleasantly surprised to receive your message. I thought the worst after what happened the other night. I'm sorry I came on so strong. It's just…I don't know. You looked so beautiful. And it seemed like fate, my just running into you like that. How about we get together on Friday? You can come to the restaurant where I work. I'll cook you something special…give you the best table in the house, in our private room. It'll be incredibly romantic…a little violin music, candles, the best French food in town (if I do say so myself), and you and me. It'll be perfect! Let me know. Soon. I'm excited already. I don't want to jinx this by getting too far ahead of myself, but I think we could really have something special.

Joe

_Thursday morning_

Justin was lying in bed, naked. He'd woken up at sunrise for no apparent reason and couldn't go back to sleep. He looked out the window. The sky was light orange and dark grey, and the water towers stood black against the skyline. Justin sighed and rolled over onto his left side and closed his eyes. But sleep wouldn't come. He tossed and turned for twenty minutes before he decided that what he needed was an elaborate romantic Brian fantasy (e.g., Brian holding Justin in his arms and nuzzling his neck or Brian finally confessing his love for Justin)…and, if that didn't relax him enough to send him off to dreamland (with images he hoped would seep into his dreams), a sexual Brian fantasy and an orgasm that would nearly rend him of his consciousness. One or the other always did the trick.

At such times, Justin would even narrate. He liked hearing his voice all husky, whispering words he wished he could say, words he wished Brian would say.

"I'm dining with Joe at the French restaurant. Brian finds out where I am. I don't know how. Maybe he comes to my apartment, and Daphne is there. Yeah, Daphne would definitely tell him. And Brian would come…whatever he says, he's SO jealous of Joe."

"Brian would see me and Joe dining over candlelight, in a private room, and he'd clench his jaw and glare. He was SO threatened by the fact that Joe is a chef. And he knows I love, no adore, food. Almost more than sex. He'd see me mmm-ing over whatever Joe cooked…maybe poached salmon with black truffles…with a creamy white wine sauce. I'd lick some off my cheek. Brian would lick his lips unconsciously then. Like he did when I licked chocolate off my cheek that one time. Joe would leave the room….maybe to get more wine. Or dessert. Yeah chocolate mousse. Brian would hide behind the door until Joe disappeared, and then he'd come in, grab my hand, and pull me out. He'd drag me to the bathroom and lock the door. Then he'd push me up against it and lean in, invading my personal space. He always does that. He'd declare cockily, 'You don't want Joe. You want me. Only me.'"

"I'd have to resist, though I wouldn't want to. Part of the plan, you know. I'd shake my head and look away. I'd have to, since I'd be telling Brian a bald-faced lie. 'No. I want Joe. I've always wanted Joe.'"

"Brian would step back a little, regarding me coolly, and smile. 'Really?'"

"'Yes, really! You know that. You've known that since day one.'"

"'No, what I know is that he's a pretext. He's always been a pretext.' Fantasy Brian is a little smarter than flesh-and-blood-Brian"

"'That's your ego talking. You're used to all guys wanting you. You can't handle anyone wanting someone else, more than they want you, anyway.'"

"'Uh-uh.'"

"I would cross my arms and glare at Brian defiantly."

"'I saw the look on your face.'"

"'What look? When?'"

"'Every time you sucked me off.' Okay, so Brian would exaggerate. I've only done it twice. But still…"

"I would sigh and turn around. My face would burn because I'd know exactly what he was talking about, though, of course, I'd pretend I didn't. 'I assure you, whatever you think you saw, it was your imagination.'"

"Brian would grab me by the shoulders and spin me around. Then he'd smirk. 'I don't think so, Sunshine.'"

"'So…what? What look did you supposedly see on my face?'"

"'Reverence. Bliss. Sucking my dick nearly got you off. You worshipped me. You worship me.'"

"'Whatever.' But I'd look down. I wouldn't want him to see the fear in my eyes."

"'And that line you fed me about Joe being too perfect, too beautiful to fuck…that was bullshit. If you'd wanted him, really wanted him, you wouldn't have come running back to me.'"

"I'd huff a laugh. 'That was a coincidence. I didn't expect to see you.'"

"'Whatever you say.'"

"I'd just turn away again."

"'I've seen you tremble and blush, for me, but that never stopped you from kissing me, jerking me off, sucking my dick, riding it. Sure, you stammered, dropped things, and tripped. But you still fell into my arms. Every time. You've never been able to help yourself. You're a slut for me. Admit it.'"

"God, I so was! But I'd laugh and spin around. I'd pretend Brian was wrong. 'You are such an asshole! And SO fucking full of yourself.'"

"Brian would just smirk."

"'I have to get back to my date.' I'd reach for the lock then (to turn it), but Brian would pull me back, lean in, and whisper in my ear, 'That snoozefest? Listening to violin music…talking about the three-story house and white picket fence he's always dreamed of and the 2.5 kids he wants to adopt.'"

"'And a date with you would be better?'"

"'I don't date.'"

"'Figures.'"

"'But…'"

"I'd raise an eyebrow and turn to face him. Brian would be a little uncomfortable. I'd be able to tell because he wouldn't meet my eyes."

"'But…if I did…I'd eat dinner off of you.' Brian would look up then, his eyes burning."

"'Is everything always about sex with you…'"

"Brian would shrug. 'I like sex…' More downcast eyes. 'But no. I'd lick sauce off your belly button, your cheek, the back of your knee…I'd make you laugh. It's not that Joe's boring, though I'd bet you a thousand bucks that he is. With the right person, boring stuff isn't boring.'"

"That would nearly knock the wind out of me. 'Brian,' I would breathe."

"Then Brian would grab me by the waist. He'd pull my body hard against his and kiss me like I was a fountain, drinking so deeply, like he'd been on the verge of dying before my lips met his."

Justin sat up then, leaning back against one arm and reaching for his cock with his free hand. His cock was hard and leaking. He started jerking off. Slowly. In Justin's imagination, Brian was licking the curve of his neck, the tip of his tongue trailing along it so slowly, causing a half-shiver, half-tickling sensation, and then Brian was nibbling on an earlobe. Then more kissing. "Fuck, Brian," he moaned. "God, yes."

Suddenly, Justin's bedroom door swung open. Daphne stepped through and sing-songed, "Rise and shine!" She was grinning broadly. Until her eyes lighted on Justin. His eyes were closed. His back was arched, and, of course, he was stroking his dick. Daphne turned away. "Oh God! Justin! Cover up!"

Justin released his still very erect cock and opened his eyes. Then he sighed and fell back onto the bed. The blanket whooshed as he pulled it over himself. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"I did! You didn't answer, and the door was unlocked."

"You need to go back to Africa."

"Justin!"

"You're seriously cock blocking me! First you say I can't have sex with Brian…and with your pop-ins, I can't even jerk off!"

"Geez! Fine. I'll call first next time."

"Thank you! Now…could you, uh, go get coffee or something?"

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Gross!"

Justin just blinked.

"Fine! I'll get coffee. But jerk off fast. The coffeeshop is just around the corner."

Meanwhile, across town, Brian was sleeping. But not peacefully.

He was tossing and turning, though very much asleep.

In Brian's dream, Justin was looking at him, but he seemed different somehow. Like a shell of a person. His eyes cold, almost dead. They were at the loft. Justin was standing on the other side of the door (in the hall), and Brian was in the doorway, leaning back against the jamb.

"You don't want Joe. You want me. Only me."

Justin intoned, "I wanted you. I fantasized about you. I fell in love with you."

Pause.

"I had my shot. And I lost. It happens. Now I have to try as hard as I can to want something else. Someone else."

Pause.

"I _need_ to learn to want someone else."

Brian opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. What could he say? Justin was better off without him. He knew that. They both did. But when Justin turned to leave, why did Brian feel like there was a hole in his chest? And not just a hole. A black hole. Sucking everything down into it, leaving nothing but a cold emptiness in its wake. Without even thinking, Brian grabbed Justin's shoulder, pulling him back. The ache in his chest eased a little. "Wait," he rasped.

Justin looked up at him. His eyes still empty. Not saying anything. Not moving even a fraction of an inch. Completely still. Waiting. But expecting nothing.

"I…" But Brian didn't know what to say. He couldn't give Justin what he wanted, what he needed, but he didn't want him to leave. Weakly, he asked, "Why can't we just…"

"Just what? Fuck sometimes? Maybe I should just accept whatever you're willing to give me. But I'm an all or nothing kind of person. I don't want to share you with hundreds of other guys."

"As if," Brian blurted out.

"What?" Justin's eyes were narrow now. Flashing. No longer dead.

Brian sighed. "My dick isn't cooperating. I've barely tricked since we met."

Justin blinked a few times. He was panting now. He looked afraid. "Really?"

Brian shrugged and looked down. "I need..."

"What?"

"I need this…this funk or whatever to end. I need to go back to being Brian-Fucking-Kinney, stud of Liberty Avenue. People are already starting to talk."

"You have so much more to offer than your body."

Brian looked at Justin sharply, an unspoken "no," an angry "no," in his eyes.

"You're more than an amazing fuck, Brian. And if you'd just..."

Brian snapped. "Just what?"

Justin gestured helplessly and sighed. Then he continued, his voice barely rising above a whisper, "If you'd just let me love you, you'd see that. You don't need hundreds of devotees. Just one. One who'd love more than your body. If you'd just let me in, I'd worship you forever."

Brian felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. But still, he managed to scoff, "Forever is bullshit." He leaned back and reached for the handle. He needed Justin to stop talking. Even if that meant shutting the door in his face.

"Let me in, Brian. Just let me in."

Brian awoke clutching his pillow, dream-Justin's words echoing in his head.

"Let me in, Brian. Just let me in."

TBC…later tonight


	33. Another Dream and a Fall

_Later Thursday morning_

Daphne and Justin were in Justin's living room talking and drinking coffee. Justin was now clothed, in jeans and a T-shirt, the T-shirt, in fact, that he'd lent Brian the morning they'd jerked each other off. Justin had seen it in Brian's hamper the day he'd gone to Brian's loft and had taken it. He still hadn't washed it. It smelled like Brian.

"Email him back!"

Justin grimaced. "Do I have to?"

"Yes! You want Brian to be your boyfriend, don't you?"

Justin sighed and let his head fall to his shoulder. He inhaled deeply, breathing Brian in. Then he whispered, "So much."

Justin groaned, set his coffee cup down (the red one Brian had used that same morning they'd jerked each other off), and then dragged himself over to the computer. He pulled up one of the dating sites, the one Joe had emailed him from, and clicked Joe's username. Then he clicked send message.

Joe,

Sounds great! Is 6 o'clock alright? Which restaurant do you work at?

Justin

Justin wanted to end the evening as early as possible. Maybe he'd even make it home in time to catch the second half of _Medium._

_Even Later Thursday morning_

After a shower and a jerk-off session most definitely not inspired by images of a certain blond's plump cherry-red lips wrapped around Brian's cock, Brian made coffee, and then, after it was done, he wandered over to his desk. He was morbidly curious. He went to Justin's profile on one of the dating Web sites. He logged in as Justin and clicked the link taking him to Justin's inbox. He saw three emails from Joe (three he hadn't seen anyway). The last one was dated this morning, a few minutes ago in fact. Brian closed his eyes for a moment. He shouldn't read Justin's emails. Not because it was wrong, but because it was pathetic. Brian sighed, opened his eyes, and clicked on the third email. Pathetic as doing this might make him, Brian had to know.

It read…

Justin,

6 o'clock would be perfect! I work at Bon, on Third and Broad. I'm going to make you the best meal you've ever eaten! I'm so excited! See you tomorrow!

Joe

Jesus. Could this douchebag use more exclamation points? Brian marked the message as unread, closed the page, and then ran his fingers through his hair. Fuck. The snuggler was gonna cook for Justin. If Brian had been hoping Justin would decide Joe was a douche, which Brian certainly had _not_, it seemed unlikely to happen now. So Justin was dating him. Good. That's what Brian wanted Justin to do.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Things were going exactly as Brian had hoped.

_Thursday afternoon_

Brian was sitting at his desk at the office, flipping a pen over and over in his hand.

Cynthia popped her head in the door. "Have you seen Smith? The other representatives from Branson Hotels are ready to leave, but he disappeared."

Brian tilted his head toward his groin and smirked. "Tell them we're just ironing out a couple of details. He'll be right out."

Cynthia shook her head. "You got it, boss." With a giggle, she was gone.

"I guess we'd better hurry this along." Brian threaded his fingers through blond hair and started thrusting upward, pushing his cock into Smith's throat. Brian noted with annoyance that Smith's hair was coarse. It was bad enough that his lips were thin. Brian closed his eyes, revisiting his fantasy from that morning and thrusting faster. Soon nothing mattered.

_Friday morning_

Brian rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, more specifically the part of the ceiling in the living room with the curvy track upon which four triangular-bell-shaped bulbs were fixed. Brian had moved them last night, shoving all four together on one side of the track. He'd moved his desk, but it had been too dark there. The last few days, Brian had been especially sensitive to lighting. That is to say, he'd suddenly needed more of it. He never used to mind sitting in the dark. In fact, he'd preferred it. Until a few days ago. Specifically, the evening Brian had awoken to find Justin gone. Ever since, Brian had needed more light. So much light. He'd even purchased another track lighting fixture. An electrician was coming to install it this afternoon. Brian had offered the guy double for a next-day appointment. He was suddenly desperate for more light.

Brian jumped. "What the fuck?" He ran his hand over his cheek. A droplet of water was rolling across it.

Brian scanned the ceiling above him for leaks. There were none that he could see. Jesus. Had he woken up crying? He'd had yet another bad dream. The second in as many days. And they were getting all Twin Peaks on him (and, apparently, turning him into a lesbian).

In the dream, Brian had watched Justin walking away with Joe. It had happened just like it had that night last week outside the diner. Then it had started raining umbrellas. No lie. In fact, several had fallen on Brian's head. What was most peculiar was that Brian had gotten wet, even though no rain had been falling from the sky. Just umbrellas. Next thing Brian knew, he was sitting at a plain wooden table, one that looked exactly like the kitchen table at his mom's house. He'd been holding a decorative light bulb. One of the ones that look kind of like the top of an ice cream cone. He'd stood and tried to screw it into one of the chandelier fixtures, but the base of the light bulb was too big. Then a cop had knocked on the door. He was there to return Brian's Paddington bear. The bear'd had a sling on its arm.

That last part had actually happened to Brian. When he was five, he'd lost his Paddington. One minute he was clutching the bear in the crook of his arm, walking through a mall holding his mom's hand, and the next it was gone. A few days later, a cop (a friend of one of his uncles, Brian later learned) had come to the door, carrying a Paddington bear. Its arm was in a sling. The cop had explained that Brian's bear had fallen and hurt its arm. That he'd been in the hospital for the past few days, but that he'd asked to be taken home once he was better.

Brian had been so happy and relieved. He'd cried after losing the bear. He hadn't wanted to eat or play. How could he? His bear wasn't scared of Jack. He helped Brian be brave when his dad went into one of his drunken rages. He told him that, one day, he'd be big and strong. That one day he'd stop being afraid. That, after that, he'd never be afraid again.

It wasn't until Brian was 12 that his sister told him that his favorite uncle, his father's brother Ray, had arranged Paddington's return (She'd used it as further evidence that he was stupid). But Brian had never been allowed to have anything good. His dad had made sure of that. Just a year after Paddington's return, Jack had ripped it limb from limb. Paddington's stuffing had gone everywhere. His mother had complained for weeks afterward that she was still finding bits of Paddington's insides all over the place.

Jack had made Ray go away, too. One night when Brian was six, Jack and Ray had fought. So loudly Brian had woken up. He and Paddington (that was a month before Paddington's untimely death) had crept to the top of the stairs and looked down. Jack and Ray were yelling and screaming and pushing each other. Then they'd started throwing punches. Jack had then ordered Ray out. And Ray had left. Brian never saw him again. Two days later, social service people had come to the door. They'd asked Brian a lot of questions and then they'd left, too. A few weeks after that, Paddington had been murdered. And a few months after that, Brian's mom had told him that Ray had died in a car accident. Brian's dad wouldn't let them go to the funeral.

Brian's mom was always telling him about God's will. That God always gave people lives that they deserved. So at seven, Brian had decided that God had taken a dislike to him. It was His will that Jack was his father. That Jack hit him and yelled at him and would never let him have anything good. His will that Ray had left and then died. Seven-year-old Brian had decided that God, like Jack, would always make everyone leave.

Brian hadn't thought about Ray or Paddington in a long, long time.

Clearly Brian wasn't indulging in enough of the various intoxicants he typically indulged in. He almost never remembered his dreams because he usually passed out rather than falling asleep. That had been happening with less frequency since Justin had come into Brian's life. Brian had even started calling Justin to lull him to sleep with that purring voice of his. Fucking pathetic.

A lot of things had been happening with less frequency since Justin had come into Brian's life. Brian had started going to Babylon less. Indulging less. Tricking less. Even spending less time with Mikey. Mostly because of the less frequent clubbing, indulging, and tricking. Mikey wouldn't understand. Fuck, Brian didn't even understand. Worse yet, Brian had been eating more and exercising and purging (through juice diets) less. Yesterday, he'd weighed himself. He'd discovered that he'd gained three pounds. That, more than anything else, showed Brian that his life was spinning out of control. He needed to do something. He couldn't become some sexless, crying lump. So Brian dragged himself out of bed and onto the treadmill. Then he turned it on and started running.

Brian gritted his teeth as he ran, but then cursed, "Fuck!" after a few seconds and stepped off. His foot, particularly his big toe, was killing him. He walked over to his desk and started searching through the drawers. He smiled when he found what he was looking for, a bottle of pills Anita had sold him a few months ago. He took one. Soon he wouldn't care how much his foot hurt, and he'd be able to exercise for hours.

Brian grabbed his cell phone and hit 3. "Hey, it's Brian. I don't have any meetings scheduled, so I'm going to work from home today. Could you bring me the Branson files after lunch?" He hit the end button and then stepped back on the treadmill. He started off by walking. He wouldn't try running again until Anita's wonder drug kicked in.

_Friday evening_

"Michael?"

"No…"

"I'm sorry. I hit one on my boss's cell phone expecting it to be his best friend…He must have goofed up while reprogramming his phone."

Michael. Best friend. "Wait…are you talking about Brian Kinney?"

"Yeah, you know him?"

"Yeah. This is Justin. We're…um…friends."

"Oh." Cynthia's eyes widened. But she proceeded to tell Justin what she'd planned to tell Michael (Brian had put this guy as number one on his speed dial. Who was she to argue?). "Brian's been taken to Mercy. We're not sure what happened. He was running on the treadmill. He fell or something. He has a concussion and a couple broken bones in his foot."

"Oh God! I'll come right away."

TBC…


	34. The Game Changes Again

A few minutes before Cynthia's call, Justin was sitting at the table in Bon's private room. Soft violin music was playing, a tall, thin vase with two red roses stood in the center of the table, and Joe had just set out a few dishes. Justin's eyes widened. He didn't recognize any of the dishes. Joe had truly gone all out.

Justin sighed. He couldn't do this. "Joe, everything looks beautiful, but … I …"

Joe could feel it coming. He was about to be dumped.

Justin looked down. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. This was a bad idea." Justin stood quickly and moved to leave, but Joe tugged on Justin's sleeve. "Why?"

Justin turned around slowly and sighed again, more deeply this time. "I…I'm in love with someone else. But he…"

"Doesn't love you back?"

"No! No. He does. He just…he's a severe commitment phobic."

"Ah. And what? You gave up on the guy, but then changed your mind? Or were you hoping to make him jealous?"

Justin couldn't meet Joe's eyes.

"Ah. Well don't stop now. "

Justin looked up. "What?"

"You haven't even tried to try."

"What? Look, I should go. I'm truly sorry for misleading you."

Joe stood then and grabbed Justin by the shoulder, pulling him so that they were facing each other. He just stared for a second. Then he swallowed hard and said, more enthusiastically than he meant to, "Use me."

Justin's eyes widened. "What?"

"Use me. I don't mind."

Justin gaped for a moment. Then he said, "You should. You should mind."

"Nah. Haven't you ever seen a romantic comedy?"

"Que?" Justin smiled, but it was a muted smile.

"In romantic comedies, the protagonist tries to get one guy using all sorts of machinations, and, meanwhile, another guy, the guy the protagonist is meant to be with, is by the protagonist's side. The whole time that he's helping, the protagonist is falling for him. By the end, they both realize that the other guy, the original guy, is moot."

Justin crossed his arms. "Name three."

"_Legally Blonde_, _The Wedding Date_, and _She's the Man_."

Justin laughed. "Whatever…this isn't a movie, Joe."

Joe shrugged. "Then you have nothing to worry about." Then in a softer voice and with imploring eyes, he added, "Use me."

"No." Justin shook his head and stepped back. "You seem like a nice guy…you should spend your time pursuing someone you can actually get."

Joe grinned. "You think I can't get you? Thems fightin words."

Justin huffed a laugh, but then shook his head again and looked down. "You don't get it. I'm _in love_ with someone else. _Madly_ _in love_ with someone else."

Joe shrugged. "So you think. But if you and this other guy were meant to be, you'd just be together. Love should be easy."

"You're on crack! Haven't you ever read Shakespeare? _A Midsummer Night's Dream_? 'The course of true love never did run smooth.'"

Joe pushed Justin's shoulder lightly. "I'll pit my romantic comedies against some crusty old tome any day of the week."

Justin crossed his arms again, this time adding a fierce look. "You'll lose."

"If that's true, again, you have nothing to worry about." Now Joe was crossing his arms, too.

"I don't want you to get hurt. I feel bad enough for agreeing to a date when my heart wasn't in it."

"Let me worry about me. You just worry about you and your boy…what's his name?"

"Brian."

"Alright. You worry about you and Brian, and I'll worry about me." He actually gestured first at Justin and then at himself. Then he grinned and pat Justin on the shoulder.

That's when Cynthia called…

To Cynthia, Justin said, "Oh God! I'll come right away." Then to Joe, he said, "I'm sorry. I have to go. A friend of mine had an accident."

"So let's go."

"What?"

"Brian's the 'friend' in the hospital, is he not?"

"Yeah. Wait. How'd you guess?"

Joe sighed heavily. "The look of sheer terror on your face."

"Oh." Justin smiled nervously and tilted his head. He was about to debate the using Joe idea some more, when Joe perked up again, declaring, "This is the perfect opportunity."

Justin waved his hands, shook his head, and backed up. "I can't think about plots now. I have to get to Brian."

"No thought necessary. Come on. I'll drive. I have a Jag."

Justin shook his head once more. But he followed.

Brian groaned. His eyes fluttered open. He was lying in a hospital bed. He looked over at his foot. It was in a cast. Both his head and foot ached, so much so that Brian could barely stand it. He felt like his entire body was on fire. Brian lifted his hand to his head. It was bandaged. What the fuck?

A short nurse with close cropped red hair and glasses walked into the room. "You're awake. Good."

Brian tried to speak. His mouth was so dry. He barely managed to rasp, "Hurts."

The nurse rolled a tank of nitrous oxide into the room and waved the attached face mask in her hand. "Not for long." She placed the face mask over his mouth and instructed him, "Breathe normally." After a couple of minutes, she removed the face mask and placed the tank in the corner.

Brian suddenly started giggling. The nurse, smiling now, approached the bed. "Are you feeling better?"

Brian grinned. "Am I floating? I feel like I'm floating." Then he squinted and asked, "Justin? How'd'ya know I was here?"

The nurse patted Brian's hand and scurried out.

Her heart broke when Brian called after her, "Justin…don't go."

Justin approached the front desk in the ER. A blonde woman with cold blue eyes and bright red lipstick was 'manning' it. "Hi. A friend of mine was brought here. His name is Brian Kinney."

"Are you a relative?"

Justin gestured (with both hands) impatiently and narrowed his eyes. "No…I just said we were friends."

"Then I can't give you any information."

Justin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Then he opened them again and said, in a softer, slower voice, "Please, I'm really worried."

"Sorry." But she didn't look the least bit sorry. Justin turned away and sighed. He jumped a little when he saw a short nurse with red hair standing in front of him. She'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

In a whisper, she said, "Were you asking about Mr. Kinney?"

Justin whispered back, "Yes."

More whispering. "Are you Justin?"

"Yeah … has … has he been asking for me?"

The red-haired nurse nodded.

Justin's heart leapt.

The nurse started walking away. A few seconds later, she turned and, still in a whisper, but of the impatient variety, asked, "You coming?"

"Oh! Yeah." Justin quickly followed, with Joe in tow, though, of course, Justin had forgotten all about him the second he'd set foot in the ER.

When they were far enough away from the front desk that the ice queen wouldn't hear, Justin asked, "So how is he? What happened?"

"Apparently he was running, though he had a broken toe. The running exacerbated the first break and then he fell (running at top speed) and broke two other bones in his foot, as well as giving himself a concussion. We set the broken bones and put a cast on his foot. He was in some pain, so we gave him something. You can take him home, but you or someone else will have to stay with him, waking him up every hour."

"Won't that be hard with the painkillers?"

"What we gave him was mild. And just enough to cut through the pain. He's still awake."

When they reached Brian's room, Justin finally remembered that Joe had come in with him. He turned around, and, sure enough, Joe was standing behind him. "I'm sorry if I've been a little…"

"It's perfectly understandable. The … (deep sigh) man you love is in the hospital."

"Well, um, thanks for the ride. I think I'll get a cab for Brian and me after all the paperwork is filled out."

Joe smiled. "That's good…couldn't fit three people in the Jag anyway." Out of the blue, he grabbed Justin, pulling Justin into his arms. He squeezed him tight and then released him. A quick "I'll be seeing you" and he turned and left. Justin stared after him in shock for a moment. Then he, too, turned, but in the opposite direction, and entered Brian's room.

Justin bit back a gasp. He hadn't gotten a good look at Brian until that moment. Brian was half-smiling, half-laughing, his eyes bright, but he had a bandage on his head and a cast on his foot. Worse yet, he seemed thinner, and his eyes had circles beneath them. Apparently, Brian hadn't been sleeping well. Justin swallowed hard and forced himself to smile. He moved to sit in the chair next to the bed. Brian wasn't laughing anymore. But he was still smiling. Justin reached out his hand (his first impulse was take Brian's in his or to rub his arm), but he hesitated and started pulling it back. Then Brian did something Justin would never have expected: He grabbed Justin's hand while Justin was still pulling it away. And threaded their fingers together.

Justin's eyes widened. He unconsciously licked his lips.

Brian was still smiling (grinning broadly), but his voice broke a little as he asked, "Were you on a date?"

Justin sighed. After what seemed like an eternity (to Brian), he replied, "Yeah."

"D'ja get any?" With every word, Brian's voice became more of a drawl. His words all running together.

Justin laughed nervously. "What?"

"Y'know. D'ya fuck him? The snuggler."

Justin just shook his head.

"You should'a. He's a'right."

Justin shrugged and said, his voice soft but playful, "If I'd wanted to fuck him, I would have."

"Pfft!" Brian waved his free hand at Justin. "You looove fucking. And you're good at it, too."

Justin smiled brightly. He blushed and looked down. A second later, he jumped slightly. Brian had reached out his free hand and, with a finger, lifted up Justin's chin. "Don. I wanna see."

But a moment after their eyes met, Brian looked away. He furrowed his brow. For a few seconds, his face wore a confused expression. Then he looked back at Justin. Brian hissed, "You didn fuck him cause you like him!" But his eyes held no anger. Something more like sadness, and sad would have been the appropriate tone for his words. What the fuck? Nothing matched. Jealousy was accompanied by laughter, bright smiles, and dancing eyes. Sadness by a caustic tone. None of that would have worried Justin if Brian were sober. But drugged up Brian was generally less able to throw his emotions like ventriloquists throw their voices. Justin didn't think Brian was trying to dissemble. He was just … mixed up. Justin was even more confused when Brian morphed again. He was laughing and smiling once more. He repeated, incredulously, "The snuggler. Fuckin asshole. Tried to snuggle you standing!"

Justin smiled again, too. Much more brightly this time. Brian was fucking adorable when he was on whatever-the-fuck this was. Well when he wasn't slightly dark and scary (then he was sexy as hell, Justin thought). That million-watt smile induced Brian to pull Justin toward him by the hand, the hand still holding Justin's. Justin resisted. A little. "Brian…what?"

"Com'ere. I'll snuggle you right."

Justin laughed. Loudly. "What the hell did they give you?" But he let himself be pulled into the hospital bed with Brian. "Brian … careful … careful … of your … your foot."

Justin was now nestled snuggly in Brian's arms. He was the little spoon, though he kind of thought he should be the big spoon, you know, cause Brian had a hurt foot and all. Brian had both arms around Justin's waist and had pulled Justin's ass against his groin. Justin resisted the urge to push back against him. He just let himself be snuggled. He was a little worried that Brian might suddenly come to his senses and push him off the bed, but eventually, he relaxed. Brian had held him but once (that he knew about), and that was after lots of drugs and even more fucking and sucking.

But Justin tensed up when he felt hairs brush against his neck. And then skin pressed against his. Finally warm breath. That caused Justin to shiver. "I like…like floating. This isn't bad, but I still prefer fuckin."

That had Justin laughing and then whispering, "Me, too." But too softly for Brian to hear.

"So you gonna bust me out?"

Justin moved to stand.

"No..no! Come back!"

Justin heard no vulnerability in Brian's voice … still, the words. They almost stopped him, but Justin figured he shouldn't be in bed with Brian when the nurse returned. And she should. Any minute now. The words … Brian's words were the key to what Brian was feeling. Was it opposite day? He shook his head and kept moving, being careful not to kick Brian's foot (he was still wearing shoes). When he was finally erect, he replied, "Yeah. The nurse said I could take you home if I make sure you don't fall asleep for more than an hour at a time."

"Sleeping's for suckers anyway. Don't like dreamin."

Justin sat down again. Brian slipped his hand back into Justin's and threaded their fingers together. But he did it without looking. That (the not looking part) actually made it a little difficult for Brian to find Justin's hand. Brian was staring into Justin's eyes. Brian's seemed dark and cold. Empty. And suddenly, too. No longer dancing. Justin would have chuckled (about the difficulty Brian was having coolly taking his hand), but the expression in Brian's eyes scared him a little. Worried scared. What emotion was he unwittingly masking now? "Why do you say that? About dreaming?"

"Sleeping's for suckers anyway. Don't like to dream."

Justin swallowed hard. "Brian, you just said that a second ago."

"Oh." Now he was grinning again. "I like floating. You know what's funny?"

Justin tried to smile.

"Someone taking an iron to your arm."

Justin suddenly found himself incapable of speech.

Brian giggled. "Irons are for clothes!"

A wave of cold nausea washed through Justin. That's when the nurse returned, with a clipboard in her hand.

TBC…


	35. It's Lovely and More Temperate

Brian and Justin were at the loft. Justin was standing in front of the fridge, with the door open. Brian leaned against Justin and slid his hands around Justin's waist. "Whatcha doin?"

"Looking for something to feed you. Have you eaten at all today?"

"Nope. Eatin's for suckers."

Justin surveyed the contents of Brian's fridge. Little bottles of something liquid. Poppers. And ketchup.

Justin giggled. "What's the ketchup for?"

Brian shrugged and backed up (hopping on his good foot).

Justin chastised him. "Use the crutches. You don't want to break anything else do you?"

Brian sighed heavily. "No, Ma." Then he grabbed the crutches, shoved them under his arms, and plunked and swung toward the couch.

Justin followed, still smiling, ketchup bottle now in his hand.

Brian stopped (he'd reached the couch), plopped himself down on it (first sitting on his butt but then lying on his back), and handed Justin the crutches.

"So…the ketchup? What's it for again?"

Brian grinned. "I didn't say. Nice try." Then his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, he replied, "It's for my dick."

Justin wrinkled his nose. "Ewww…"

"Nah. I think … I think it's from the last owner. Or maybe Mikey, Mikey, brought it over … I dunno."

"Alright then. Into the trash it goes." Justin walked back into the kitchen, tossed the ketchup, and then started looking in cupboards.

"Nothing to find, Sunshine. Just give up. Order … order … what … Thai. Yeah, Thai. Menu's in … in the drawer."

Justin guessed that Brian was right, but looked in the cupboards anyway. He was curious. He found plates, bowls, cups, and mugs. A box of extra large lubed condoms. A bottle of chocolate sauce. A jug-like package of basmati rice.

_A jug-like package of basmati rice?_

Justin burst out laughing. "Okay…I get the condoms and the chocolate sauce…but basmati rice?" Justin swung around and peered at Brian expectantly.

Brian shrugged. "Maybe I got it to go with the peas."

Justin laughed. "What?" But he stopped laughing when he opened the freezer and found … frozen peas (and three bags of bagels minus the one Justin had toasted and had tried to eat). More to himself than anything else, Justin exclaimed softly, "You kept the peas. And the bagels. I figured you'd toss them."

"Waste not, want not … or …some fucking thing."

Justin swung around and stared at Brian for a long moment. So long Brian started to fidget uncomfortably. "What?"

Justin swallowed hard. "Nothing. I was just thinking I could go to the store and get some cream cheese, orange juice, and coffee. You have a coffeemaker, right?"

"Yeah…uh…" Brian waved his hand in the general direction of the kitchen. "In there…somewhere. A lower cupboard … maybe."

"I think I saw a store a few blocks from here."

"Call for Thai. Easier."

"It's only a few blocks. And as you said, waste not, want not."

"I'm full of … full of shit."

Justin chuckled, ending with a sigh. Then he exclaimed brightly, "Plus, those bagels are the best in the city."

"You and your fuckin … bagels." Brian trailed off.

Justin walked over to the couch. Brian, was, as he expected, asleep. Justin's breath caught in his throat. Brian was quite simply … beautiful. Even more so when he was sleeping. He looked so … innocent. Something he most definitely did not seem when awake. Justin slid his hand along Brian's cheek gently and pushed a lock of hair off of his forehead. His chest constricted. Justin removed his hand quickly and shook his head, as though to clear it. Then he grabbed Brian's keys and headed for the corner store he'd seen on the cab ride over.

Brian awoke to the smell of coffee and the feel of something soft and mushy against his lips. He poked his tongue out. Sweet and salty. He opened one eye. Then two. Justin was rubbing a finger covered in something pink against Brian's lips. Brian poked his tongue out further and then licked Justin's finger clean. Strawberry cream cheese.

Justin was kneeling on the floor next to the couch (in between the couch and the coffee table). On the coffee table was, oddly enough, for Brian, two mugs of coffee, two glasses of orange juice, and two little plates, each containing a bagel slathered in cream cheese. Justin handed Brian one half of a bagel.

"Here."

Brian shook his head and declared, a little petulantly, "Don't want."

Justin giggled. "What, are you two?" But then his face got all serious. "You need to eat something, Brian."

"Getting fat."

Justin sighed. "If you're fat, what am I? Obese?"

Brian rolled his eyes. He grabbed the bagel half, bit off a quarter of it, and shoved it back into Justin's hand. "Happy?"

Justin smiled. "Yes. Want some coffee?"

Brian shook his head and stuck his hand back out. "Juice."

"My aren't we bossy? What do you say?"

Brian grinned and wiggled his fingers. "Now."

Justin laughed and handed him a glass. Brian drank the juice in two gulps and handed the glass back. Then he adjusted his body until he was more comfortable.

"Feel better?"

"Actually, yeah."

Justin smiled brightly. Then he looked down for a second. When he looked back up, his expression was grave. "So…what were you talking about earlier? In the hospital? You said something about …" Justin's voice broke. "… dreams … and …"

Brian shook his head. "Rather talk about your ass."

Justin couldn't stifle a giggle. "What?"

"Your ass."

Justin just blinked.

Brian swung his arms out, grinned, and then drawled, "Shall I compare your ass to a summer's day?"

Justin hid behind a pillow, still giggling, but louder now.

"It's lovely and more temp'rate…"

Justin let out a muffled "Oh my fucking God!" (his face was still buried in the pillow)

Brian started slurring even more. "Way more temp'rate. Ser'sly…it's hot. All round ba firm … soft. Love touchin it … specially when I'm fuckin you hard. Love lickin it … biting it … sliding my tongue in betw…"

Suddenly Justin emerged from beneath the pillow. Brian looked over at him. He'd stopped talking mid-word. His mouth was still open slightly. And his eyes were half filled with amusement, half with seriousness. Justin couldn't take the sight. He immediately squeezed his eyes shut and started giggling again. But they shot open again when Brian slid his hands down the back of Justin's pants.

"No underwear … naughty Sunshine."

Justin started panting and muttered softly, "Fuck."

Brian grinned. "Yeah. Zactly." He caressed Justin's ass a bit more and then squeezed it. He groaned in complaint when Justin reached behind him and removed Brian's hands. Brian looked on in horror as Justin stood and then moved to sit in a chair. On the opposite side of the coffee table.

"Wha? Why?"

"I want to talk about what you said at the hospital."

"Pfft!" Brian crooked a finger at Justin and waggled his eyebrows. "Com'ere. I wanna stick my tongue, and something else, in your ass."

Justin looked down and blushed a pretty pink.

"Well, I wanna talk."

Brian frowned. He really looked at Justin then. He was wearing a lightweight blue v-neck cashmere sweater. It matched his eyes. And black pants that, when Justin got up for more coffee, Brian noted, really accentuated his ass. And no underwear.

He'd dressed that way for the snuggler.

And now he was rebuffing Brian's advances.

Brian's frown deepened.

Well Brian wasn't going to take this lying down. Though he was, in fact, currently lying down. He sat up and removed his shirt. Then when Justin neared the couch again, refilled mug in hand, he tossed it right at Justin. Justin sidestepped the flying garment. It landed on the floor. Laughter bubbling up through his voice, Justin asked, "What are you doing, Brian?"

Brian shrugged. "Hot."

Justin resisted the urge to agree, "Yeah you are." Instead, he headed back to the chair opposite Brian. Brian frowned. Only for a second though. Then he said, "I'm hungry. Can't reach." He even grunted a little and tried to try (reaching).

Justin stopped and spun around. "Oh…here." Brian grinned when Justin was back on the floor in between the table and the couch. Well, when Justin wasn't looking. When he was, Brian tried to appear waif-y. Justin attempted to hand Brian the half of the bagel he'd eaten part of, but Brian just leaned forward. Justin smiled as he slid part of it into Brian's mouth. Brian took a huge bite purposely so as to get cream cheese on his face and then chewed dutifully.

Justin bit his lip, trying to stifle a million-watt smile. "You have … a little something …over there."

Brian didn't respond. Not in words. Instead he tilted his head and stuck his cheek forward.

Justin colored slightly and looked around. "Um … I … don't have a napkin."

Brian didn't budge.

Justin turned a deeper shade of pink as he muttered, "Um … okay" and then licked the cream cheese off of Brian's cheek.

The second Justin started to pull back Brian turned his head and kissed Justin's lips. That stopped Justin's retreat. He let himself be kissed (just a brush of the lips at that point) and then stared at Brian afterward.

Brian took that as a sign to press, so he kissed Justin again, this time pushing his tongue inside Justin's mouth. Slowly. Justin moaned so softly it was barely audible and started kissing Brian back. And moaned again. This time, a moan that seemed to be wrenched from deep within him, and not of his own accord.

Brian slid his hands along the curve of Justin's neck and then threaded his fingers into Justin's hair, pulling him closer and pushing his tongue deeper into Justin's mouth. A minute and then two slid by.

Brian had kissed them both to the point of panting and dick hardening when Justin dropped the piece of bagel he was still holding. He broke away and looked down. "Fuck. My pants." Then he jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

But of course, it was just an excuse. When Justin reached the sink, he slid his hands over the edge and looked down. Trying desperately to regulate his breathing, slow his heartbeat, and will his dick to soften. Whatever he might say or do, Brian was in no condition to fuck. And Justin had promised Daphne he wouldn't. And…she was right. Justin knew that. Allowing Brian to pull him in and push him away at the drop of a hat, on a whim, was stupid. Brian would never value him if he didn't value himself. Justin had resolved not to settle for anything less than all of Brian, and he meant to keep that resolution. Even if it killed him.

And it very well might.

TBC…


	36. All Kinds of Misunderstandings

Justin took a deep breath and headed back into the living room. His eyes widened when he saw Brian digging through his desk drawer.

"What are you doing?"

"Lookin…"

"For what?"

"Pills…"

"Are you in pain?"

"No. But iss-sn't it better to be proactive?" He smiled one of his ubersexy smiles (well Justin thought they were ubersexy) … slow and lazy … and then slipped two pills into his mouth. Then he hopped back toward the couch. But Brian was sweating, and his eyes were hazy, like he couldn't focus. Justin noted that Brian was hopping a zigzag and seemed out of breath. Justin cursed, "Fuck, Brian …"

"Nosso fast, there, Sunshine … _I_ do the fucking …" He even pounded his chest for good measure, which threw him off balance. Justin caught Brian and steadied him. He laughed as slid his arm around Brian's waist and tossed Brian's arm over his shoulder. "You're supposed to use the crutches. Doctor's orders."

"Fuck the crutches … well … not really. The top part's gotta be five … five or six inches WIDE. Ouch. An tha' other part's too small …"

Justin shook his head. "Brian, do you really think I'm planning to fuck myself with one of your crutches?"

Brian swung his head to the side and looked at Justin. Genuinely astonished, he asked, "No?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, tha's good. One side's too big … th'other too small." Brian grinned. His eyes twinkling. "But me, I'm jus right …" Brian giggled as Justin guided Brian back onto the couch. "_Jus_ right … even gos your name on it …" Once Brian was lying flat again, he grabbed Justin's hands (Justin was still leaning over, having just deposited Brian) and tried to pull Justin on top of him. Justin growled softly in frustration and stepped back. But Brian was still hanging on. Justin had to peel each of Brian's fingers off of his hands, and, when he had, Brian sighed and crossed his arms, muttering, "No fun. No fun t'all." Then he looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck. Missed my pointment with the lectrician."

Justin sat back on the chair, the chair Brian now despised (the chair Brian had decided he would toss when he could see straight again), and inquired, "Electrician? What did you need one for?"

Brian pointed up at the ceiling. "To 'stall another track thingy."

Justin followed the line of Brian's arm, which was pointing in basically the right direction (it was wobbling a bit).

Brian sighed. "Paid him extra, too … oh well."

"Why do you need another one?"

Brian huffed a breath through his nose like a dragon (he wouldn't mind breathing fire just now) and frowned. He let his arm fall. "Too dark!"

"Brian, you have plenty of light in here."

Brian shook his head side to side, all the way right and then all the way left (Brian looked a little like a five-year-old, Justin noted. He smiled at the thought).

Then Brian declared, "Nope. Too dark. No Sunshine at all."

Justin stiffened. "What?"

Brian answered on an exhale, very softly, "No Sunshine," and looked ahead of him, though his eyes had lost focus. He wasn't looking at anything Justin could see.

Justin laughed nervously. "Brian … it's really bright in here during the day, and, at night, well, of course there's no sun."

Out of the blue, Brian returned his eyes to Justin and exclaimed, "Ha! Splain why it's here now then." Brian grinned impishly.

"Ummm … " Justin looked over his shoulder and then back at Brian. "You see sunshine now?"

Brian nodded firmly twice. "Can't you? Iss right there." He pointed in Justin's direction. Justin wasn't sure whether Brian was pointing at him or at the window behind him. Brian's gaze seemed to be focused at a point a little above Justin's head.

Brian lowered his head so that he was looking right at Justin now, narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms. "So how was tha date?"

As if on cue, Justin's cell phone rang. Justin dug it out of his pocket. He sighed. It was Joe. Justin bit his lower lip and looked between Brian and the phone a couple of times. If he sent the call to voice mail, Joe might just keep trying. If he turned the phone off, his mom or Daphne might call, particularly his mom (Molly was always getting herself hurt), and he'd miss it. He decided to answer, if only to stop Joe from calling again.

Justin half-said, half-whispered to Brian, as if Joe could hear him, though he hadn't yet answered, "One second." Then he stood, walked into the kitchen, and hit the send button. In the same half-talking, half-whispering voice, he said, "Hey. What's up? This isn't really a good time.

Brian grimaced. It had to be the snuggler. Otherwise, Justin would talk normal. Brian kicked at his crutches, which were leaning against the coffee table. One slipped and fell onto the floor.

"Look, Joe. I …"

Yup. Brian grimaced again, but then, when an idea came to him, he smiled. He kicked at the crutch that was still leaning against the table. Only harder this time. Brian kicked it so hard in fact that he sent it careening across the floor and into a pillar, taking one of the coffee cups down with it.

Justin jumped when he heard the crash. He turned around.

"I gotta go. Talk to you later." He hit end and ran, actually ran, back to the couch. Justin was frantic. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Brian put his best pretend hurt face on and shook his head. He lifted his good leg and said, "Burns."

Some coffee had indeed spilled on him, but it was warm, not hot. But Justin didn't know that. A fact that sent him scrambling into the kitchen for a bowl of water, ice, and a wash cloth.

As soon as Justin wasn't looking, Brian grinned. A shit-eating grin.

TBC…


	37. Just Playin, Part 1

A/N: I had an hour free before work...so I started the next chapter of HSII. This is what I managed to get done.

Justin was slowly going insane. Of that, he was completely convinced. Brian had already removed his shirt (a black wife beater), and now, because of the coffee spill, Justin was 'forced' to remove Brian's pants, a black pair of yoga pants (made of lightweight cotton). To Justin's delight and frustration, Brian wasn't wearing anything else. So as he dunked, squeezed, gently lay the washcloth on Brian's leg, where the hot coffee had landed, and repeated, he was trying very hard (excuse the pun) not to stare at Brian's growing (and now very obvious) erection. Brian wasn't helping. But a few minutes before, when Brian's cock was (safely) flaccid, he'd begun telling Justin a story. At first, Justin had thought Brian was finally going to open up about his dreams. That had, of course, been a ruse.

"So last night, last night, I had a terr'fying dream. You were in it."

Justin looked up in surprise.

Brian's eyes fluttered closed and then open. Then he continued, in his slowest, laziest drawl, "Yeah … you were naked and leanin o'er me. Your dick was hard, rubbin up against my leg, you were so close, leanin so close, that your hair, your hair, brushed against my face. Then leanin in closer, so those perfect lips of yours, perfect for sucking dick, were almost touchin mine, you said, 'I wanna fuck you.'"

Justin shivered then, a full-body shiver, and let _his_ eyes flutter closed and then open. Brian grinned. He pressed, his voice soft and husky, "You wanna fuck me?"

At this point, Brian's cock was fully erect, to Justin's delight and frustration (as mentioned above). So was Justin's, a fact not lost on Brian.

Brian repeated, "You wanna fuck me?"

Justin gaped and turned five shades of red. He was suddenly so hot (in every sense of the word). "What?"

Brian whisper-drawled a third time, "You wanna fuck me?"

Justin swallowed hard. His voice, when he found it, was even softer and huskier than Brian's (and he was trembling, again a fact not lost on Brian, as Justin was sitting on the couch, leaning against Brian's legs). Justin asked, "Do you want me to?"

Brian shrugged. "Nah. But you can bring those plump lips o yours o'er here and suck my dick." He even crooked a finger at Justin.

Justin actually managed to turn brighter red, and his body burned even hotter.

A smile crept across Brian's lips. He teased, "You know you can't resist me … com'ere. Suck my dick."

Justin tossed the washcloth back into the bowl. He couldn't lift his head if his life depended on it. He was humiliated. Just the idea of fucking Brian had had Justin so hard that he could barely see straight. What was even more humiliating (than Brian's taunting him with it) was that Justin was a bit of a cumwhore when it came to Brian. And Brian knew it. Hence … the fact that Justin's dick had not grown flaccid as a result of his embarrassment. The idea of sucking Brian's cock was nearly as hot as the idea of fucking him.

Really looking at Justin now, Brian's expression grew serious, and his voice soft, no longer teasing or husky. He said the sweetest thing he could manage (being uncharacteristically vulnerable all of a sudden), "I really wan to fuck you. That's why I was pretending."

Justin raised his head then. "Pretending?"

"That the coffee burned me."

Justin snapped, "You ass!" (But he wasn't really angry, at least not about the pretense). Then he dumped the contents of the bowl all over Brian's groin. To Brian's great pride, his cock managed to stay erect for a few moments, despite the fact that the water was ice cold, before deflating. That's when he remembered he should be angry. He yelled, too late to be really frightening, "What the fuck, Sunshine?" The Sunshine made the exclamation even less so.

Justin didn't respond. Not in words. Instead, he tossed Brian a towel and blinked. His face was wooden, his expression empty.

TBC…


	38. Just Playin, Part 2

Just Playin, Part 2 (or It's All Fun and Games Until…)

_Previously…_

_Justin snapped, "You ass!" (But he wasn't really angry, at least not about the pretense). Then he dumped the contents of the bowl all over Brian's groin. To Brian's great pride, his cock managed to stay erect for a few moments, despite the fact that the water was ice cold, before deflating. That's when he remembered he should be angry. He yelled, too late to be really frightening, "What the fuck, Sunshine?" The Sunshine made the exclamation even less so._

_Justin didn't respond. Not in words. Instead, he tossed Brian a towel and blinked. His face was wooden, his expression empty. _

Then Justin reached down (to the coffee table) for Brian's cell phone. He was closed off and determined. At that moment, he kind of wished he'd never met Brian. Just as Justin's fingers slid around the cool metal, Brian asked, a little nervously, "Whatcha doin, Sunshine?"

Justin actually flinched at that. He stated coldly, "Calling Mikey."

"Wha? Why?"

Justin still refused to look at Brian. "Someone needs to be here with you. Make sure you don't die."

Brian was beginning to panic.

Just stay.

Brian had missed Justin so badly. And now Justin was here. But he wanted to leave.

Just stay.

Brian was toxic. He knew that. Still …

Just stay.

When Justin didn't read Brian's mind, instead peering at the cell phone screen and pressing a button repeatedly, most likely cycling through numbers, Brian said aloud, his voice slightly shaky, "Just stay."

Justin looked up, momentarily stunned. Suddenly Justin was reminded of Brian's earlier plea (in the hospital): "No … no! Come back!" But this time, there was … some strange expression in Brian's eyes. Something soft. Even child-like.

As annoyed as Justin was … as much as but a few moments ago the last thing he'd wanted to do was to look at Brian … now … now he couldn't stop.

That was it.

The irony.

Brian was a seemingly endless combination of impossibilities.

Impossibly, Brian wanted Justin.

Impossibly, he felt 'something' for Justin (Men like Brian didn't lick belly buttons … well, not generally).

Brian was impossibly strong (read 'cold') and impossibly weak (read 'vulnerable') … well sometimes.

But Brian would never want Justin to fuck him (Justin thought bitterly).

Would never ask Justin to be his boyfriend.

Yet he would spend time with Justin … lots and lots of time … doing date-like things.

And he would get jealous of rivals for Justin's affection.

But could he ever say I love you?

Or even, I want to date you?

Could he be faithful?

No. (He must have heard Justin's slip after they'd first fucked. And he'd run as fast and as far as he could. Justin sighed and chastised himself. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.)

No.

And double no.

Would that be enough for Justin?

He didn't know.

But … he couldn't force himself to leave.

Five seconds ago, nothing could have kept Justin here; now, nothing could keep him away.

"Com'ere," Brian drawled.

Justin blinked slowly, set the phone back onto the table, and approached Brian. Brian pulled Justin down until he was lying on the couch next to Brian, facing away from him. Brian was still wet. Justin didn't care. Brian threw his arm around Justin and promptly fell asleep (not too surprising with the drugs and all). Justin could tell from his rhythmic breathing. And the drool.

After a few minutes, Justin rolled over—no mean feat (without falling off the couch). Justin just looked at Brian. Brian was beautiful. Even sick. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles. And his face was stubbly. But his lips looked so perfect. Not full, but well shaped. Justin groaned softly. He couldn't resist. He drew the tip of his tongue slowly over Brian's upper lip and then nibbled gently on his lower one. Brian moaned and pulled Justin closer.

Justin nuzzled himself against Brian's chest. But he didn't sleep. He just listened to Brian breathe. And tried not to think. Tried not to be hurt (by Brian's messing with him … by the things Brian could never give him).

Brian started to stir about thirty minutes later. He moaned again, but this time, the moaning was different. Not warm and sleepy (like it had been when Brian pulled Justin closer). Not the animal-like moan Brian made when they fucked.

But whimpery.

Suddenly Brian cried out, "Stop. Don't. I promise I'll be good. I'll be good. Stop. Please."

The last word sounded like it had been wrenched from somewhere deep inside Brian. And painfully.

Brian started thrashing then. His face was suddenly flushed. Tinged with red and covered with a thin film of sweat. His hands were balled into fists, and his eyes were shut tight (rather than simply closed).

Justin was stunned into paralysis, staring in horrified fascination. Until Brian slipped a hand into Justin's and threaded their fingers together. Justin slid his free hand to Brian's face, caressing it gently and whispering, "Brian. Brian. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Brian didn't rouse. He thrashed even more and held Justin's hand tighter. Brian shrunk away from Justin (bodily) even as he continued to hold Justin's hand. And tight. He cried out again, "No. Please. No!" and started to pant. Then he sat up, eyes open wide. He nearly knocked Justin off of the couch. In fact, he would have but for the fact that he was still holding Justin's hand.

Brian blinked a few times and looked around confused.

Justin swallowed and licked his lips, but his voice still came out in a rasp. "What … what were you dreaming about?"

Brian shook his head slowly and lay back down. He swallowed and coughed and then whispered, "Cigarettes. An iron. A dark closet."

Justin grew cold. His chest was suddenly so hollow. He moaned, "Oh God."

But Brian … he was oddly calm. He breathed, "Come'ere." He didn't wait for Justin to respond. He simply pulled Justin to his chest and wrapped his arms around him. Tight.

Brian was hot and dripping with sweat, and his heart was beating so fast. Too fast. Nearly pounding out of his chest.

Justin didn't know what to say. How to make anything better. He stammered, "I … "

But Brian cut him off. "Don't talk. Just let me …"

Brian didn't need to finish. Assuming he'd planned to. Justin whispered quickly, "Okay."

They didn't talk.

Justin listened to Brian's heart beat until it was slow and steady again.

Dun.

Dun.

Dun.

It was lulling. Hypnotic.

Justin's eyes finally fluttered closed.

So Justin didn't feel Brian's fingers in his hair. Or on his face. His arm. His shoulder. His chest. Didn't feel Brian pulling him closer. Holding him tighter. Didn't feel Brian press his lips gently against his forehead.

A shame.

TBC…


	39. The Morning After

Justin woke up with a start. It was bright out. He jumped up (to a sitting position), nearly falling over, but righting himself. "Fuck!" He immediately began shaking Brian (his right arm). "Brian, Brian, wake up." Brian didn't budge. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Justin leaned down, placing his ear against Brian's mouth, listening for breathing. Justin didn't hear anything. But he did feel something wet and wiggly snake up his ear lobe and then into his ear. Justin jumped up again, but this time losing his balance, toppling backward and landing on his butt. He lay down all the way and wiped his ear dry. In a whisper, he said, "Yuck."

Brian suddenly appeared, hovering over Justin. "You loved it."

Wasn't this a familiar scene? Justin on his ass and Brian above him looking amused. Okay, not always. "Pfft. Whatever." But he couldn't stop himself from smiling. Only for a second. Then he was on his feet, arms crossed, face stern. "So you're not dead. Good. That means..."

Brian leaned back on his arms then. In that moment, the sun streaming through the windows fell on him in just the right way, making his skin seem to glow, the red and blond highlights in his chestnut hair glinting. Justin gasped (instead of finishing his thought). His eyes trailed slowly down Brian's body, from the half-smile playing on his lips down past his chest and stopping at Brian's cock, which was, of course, erect.

Brian drawled, "That means … what?"

Justin swallowed audibly and shook his head before finally looking up and into Brian's eyes. "Huh?"

Brian laughed. "You were saying?"

Justin tugged at the bottom of his shirt and looked away. "Oh … uh … I should probably go."

Brian flourished toward the door and allowed himself to fall back onto the couch. The second his head hit the pillow, he closed his eyes.

Justin hesitated for a moment (temporarily paralyzed by something inside him imploring him to stay), but then he said, "Okay. Um … I'm gonna go" and shuffled slowly toward the door.

Brian opened his eyes and nodded. No emotion registered on his face.

Justin swallowed hard and increased his pace. When he reached the door, he hesitated again, but then pulled it open. "Bye."

Brian's voice was almost a croak. "Later."

Justin sighed, walked through the door, and slid it shut. But he didn't head toward the elevator or the stairs. Instead, he leaned back against the door and sighed heavily. He was inwardly kicking himself. He could so easily have stayed. He should have. He shouldn't have waited, hoping that Brian would ask him not to leave. Again. "Just stay," Justin whispered. Brian was injured and having nightmares. That alone should have been enough to keep him there. But Brian had asked him not to leave the night before. He'd pulled Justin into his arms and held him. Justin's chest ached then. So much that he couldn't move even if he wanted to. Brian had given him an opening, and he'd been too stubborn to take it, or at least to use it for all it was worth. What if this was it? As bad as it was to say or think, Brian's accident … well both accidents had been opportunities. Opportunities for them to see each other, for one of them to do something to break the silence … or whatever … that had started after they'd first fucked. But …so far neither had been willing to be that vulnerable. Well … until last night. Justin ran his fingers roughly through his hair and growled softly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What if Brian's (Justin imagined) drug-induced plea had been all the opening Justin would ever get? Had he squandered it? Justin groaned. Most definitely. Should he go back in? Say he forgot something and then just stay a while … hoping Brian would be too relieved to call him on the ruse? Justin clenched a fist. No. Whatever opportunity he'd had was gone. He drew in a shuddery breath and headed for the stairs.

That's when the door flew open. Seriously. Justin swung around.

Brian was standing in the doorway, leaning on his crutches, fully dressed (though shoeless and sockless). He started in surprise when his eyes fell on Justin. "You're still here …"

Justin tugged at the bottom of his shirt again and cleared his throat. "Oh yeah, uh, I thought I left my phone in the loft, but, um, then I found it."

Brian cleared his throat, too. Then he said, "Well … good. I was hoping to catch you."

Justin's eyes widened.

Brian cleared his throat again. "I just remembered that I have Gus tonight. He's been asking to see you and Molly."

Justin's eyes lit up. "Oh! Really?"

Brian nodded. "So … if you don't have plans tonight … ?"

Justin inadvertently jumped a little (he didn't mean to act so excited … he damn sure didn't want to … or even to feel that excited. But he did. No doubt about it). Then he looked down. He tried to school his expression and shrugged. "Yeah … I mean, I guess …"

Justin peeked up at Brian. Brian was actually smiling. Not a smirk or a half-smile. A real one (well, minus the teeth).

"Say 6?"

Justin shrugged. "Sure …"

"K…"

"K…later."

"Later."

Brian slid the door shut. And Justin … he grinned and started doing a happy dance. Mid ass wiggle, the door slid back open. Justin froze and turned three shades of red.

Brian's smile had turned into a smirk.

Fuck. Justin closed his eyes for a moment and silently prayed Brian hadn't looked at him through the peephole.

Amusement bubbling up through his voice, Brian asked, "Did you say something, Sunshine?"

Justin shook his head fervently. "Nope." Then he turned and ran for the stairs.

Brian laughed. Loudly.

Justin ran faster.

TBC…tomorrow


	40. Pretexts

A/N: I did actually write an update, but not the one I expected to write (it's an interlude before the playdate). I hope it doesn't suck...I get nervous when I write non-B/J scenes...I'll post another HSII update tomorrow.

Jennifer Taylor crossed her arms. "No." She was standing in her kitchen next to the country blue counter, which complemented the country rose walls and matched the wallpaper running parallel to the ceiling and the floor. It depicted little girl dolls in pink prairie dresses holding blue flowers in little pots.

Justin whined, "Why not?"

Jennifer, arms still crossed, shrugged. In a rising tone, she replied, "Your sister and I have plans."

Justin stared at his mother. A minute and then two went by. He didn't blink. Not even once.

Jennifer let her arms fall and spun around. "What, we can't have plans?"

More staring. Still no blinking.

Jennifer wheeled back around. "Why does it have to be tonight anyway?"

Justin started to answer, "Brian…," but he didn't really know how to finish the thought, so he let the word, Brian's name, hang in the air. His voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Brian?"

Justin didn't like the way his mother spat the word out.

"You want permission to take your sister on a date?"

'No … I mean … not exactly. He has a son. It'd be a playdate. Kind of. And she's met them before. The last time I babysat for you."

"Ohhhh. Is that the Gus Molly's been babbling about?"

Justin nodded.

Jennifer laughed. "I thought she'd made him up. A boy in heels. Who would have thought?" Less amused, she continued, "So who is this Brian anyway?"

"Just Brian, mom. Not _this_ Brian."

"Okay. Okay. Who is _Brian_ anyway? Someone you're dating? And if so, why haven't I heard about him?"

Justin let his head fall and sighed heavily. "We're not exactly dating … I don't know what the fuck we're doing …"

"Language!"

"Sorry."

In a softer tone, Jennifer asked, "But … you _want_ to date him?"

Another heavy sigh. "Yeah."

"Well … that's all well and good, but I don't think using your sister …"

"I'm not using her." After a sharp look from his mother, he backtracked. "Okay, maybe I am, but she loves Gus. They were inseparable."

Jennifer shook her head. Then she started lecturing. "Kids need consistency. If Brian isn't a permanent fixture in your life, I'm not sure getting her attached to his son is a good idea …"

"Friends come and go for her all the time. Three months ago, she couldn't stop talking about Sarah. How she was so funny and so smart. They had slumber parties every weekend and were constantly on the phone. But now…"

"That's not the same. Plus, she's still recovering from your breakup with Ethan."

"Oh my God! She is _not_! She never liked him. She was always freaked out by his goatee. He'd walk in, and she'd go running the other way."

Jennifer sighed mournfully.

Justin raised an eyebrow. He asked hesitantly, "Do _you_ miss Ethan?"

Jennifer laughed. "No … no. I mean, he was okay, but … Maybe she didn't like him, but still, too much is changing in her life, and she needs consistency.

"You mean Ethan and Sarah? Come on, mom. That's flimsy even for an obsessive-compulsive parent like you?" Jennifer's eyes widened, but Justin just barreled on. "So what's your actual bitch?"

Jennifer chastised Justin again, but there was no anger or annoyance in it. Not this time. "Language."

Justin muttered, "Sorry" automatically, but he was mostly waiting.

"I just … you were so upset after Ethan left. Relationships are hard enough without bad beginnings. If things are so up in the air that you're using your sister to get to him … maybe you should find someone else …"

Justin ran a hand through his hair. "Part of me wishes I could. I mean, there _is_ someone else … someone who seems to have no difficulty expressing his feelings for me …"

Jennifer gaped.

Justin let his hand fall to the counter and started playing with the edge, squeezing it and then running his thumb over it. "It's not what you think." Justin spoke faster and faster. "I'm not dating that other guy or anything. He just showed interest. Well … I kind of went out with him …but just once, and I left early."

Jennifer huffed a laugh.

Justin buried his face in his hands. When he looked back up, he was slightly flushed. "The whole situation with him, Joe, is kind of messed up … but it just proves that all I want is Brian. No other guy, no matter how great, will make me happy."

"Happiness isn't everything …"

Now it was Justin's turn to gape. "What?"

"You need to take a lot of other things into consideration." Jennifer looked away then. She was kind of staring into space. "I mean … do you like this guy because there's an element of danger … because he's not predictable? Because he's kind of wild? Maybe he makes you feel alive, awakening in you something you thought was long dead …"

"Uh …"

Jennifer didn't hear Justin. She continued without pause, "But you have to think about the long run. Who'll get hurt? How will it affect your family?"

"Mom … who are we talking about?"

Jennifer looked back at Justin. "What?"

"Who are you talking about? Brian is all that … does all that. But there's no way you could have known. And I really doubt my relationship will negatively affect you, Molly, or dad."

Jennifer cringed visibly on the last word.

"Mom, is something going on between you and dad?"

Jennifer closed her eyes and shook her head. Her voice now a husky whisper, "No. Nothing. _Absolutely_ nothing."

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head then. "Oh my God! You're having an affair?"

Jennifer waved her hand and looked at Justin sharply. "Shhh… your sister might hear."

"Who is he?"

Jennifer stared at Justin intently, as if deciding (or trying to decide something). Finally she sighed and said, "One of her teachers."

"What?"

"Her music teacher. He rides a motorcycle. Has long hair. Is way, way too young for me. But …"

Justin huffed a laugh. His voice was filled with amusement. "But what?"

"He kissed me. At the last parents' night. Your father was 'working,' of course, so I took Molly by myself. We got to talking in the music room. Molly was off playing with Sarah. He … I don't know. He was talking to me about Molly's progress, and then, he just stopped and stared at me. He said, 'You're so beautiful.' And then somehow we were kissing. He had me pushed up against the wall."

Justin wrinkled his nose. "Please, mom. I'm getting a visual …"

Jennifer laughed. "I felt completely out of control. And way, way out of my league. He's so young and handsome. And I …I'm, well, I'm hardly a girl anymore. I could almost be his mother. It couldn't possibly work. It would be messy and painful … But I just … I can't stop thinking about him."

Justin smiled and shook his head. "I know exactly what you mean. Wait… Does dad know?"

"God, no. He wouldn't notice if I dyed my hair green and gained 50 pounds." Jennifer ran a hand across her forehead and sighed mournfully. "You know what? Go ahead."

"What?"

"Take Molly tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah. It's better this way."

Justin kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, mom!"

Jennifer laughed bitterly. "Don't thank me. A playdate won't change who he is."

"Mom?"

Jennifer looked down and ran her hands over the bottom of her blouse, smoothing out a wrinkle. "I … I was thinking about taking her to a children's musical her music teacher recommended. He … he might have mentioned that he'd be taking his nephew, you know, tonight."

Justin laughed. Loudly. "Oh my God! You're as bad as I am!"

Jennifer actually giggled. Then she blushed.

"Don't let me get in the way … fuck … what am I doing?"

Jennifer didn't even notice the swearing.

"I should probably cancel … using Molly to see Brian is kind of pathetic."

"No, no. The musical was a stupid idea. Like I said, a playdate won't change who he is. He's Molly's teacher and almost young enough to be my son. And … it was just one kiss a few months ago. I doubt he feels the way I do."

"Mom …if he mentioned that he'd be at that musical … he probably wants to see you outside of school. People use pretexts like that for a reason. When they want to see you but, for one reason or another, don't feel like they can just ask."

"How could he want me? I have crow's feet, and I'm not as thin as I once was."

Justin replied matter of factly, "If he didn't want you, why would he have kissed you? Why would he try to see you outside of school?"

Why indeed?

"No, you take her, sweetie. Maybe you'll have better luck with your bad boy."

Justin complained, "God, mom! You're seriously killing me."

But he was smiling, too. Suddenly all of the games they'd been playing (the playdates, Barney, and the dating 'practice') didn't seem so bad. Suddenly, what Brian wanted seemed crystal clear. Suddenly, Justin felt like a fool.

Across town…

Brian hit two on the speed dial. A few moments later, he asked, "Can I have Gus tonight?"


	41. You're Stupid Seriously

Justin stood outside Brian's door, holding Molly's hand. Molly was prattling. Justin wasn't listening.

"So when I was playing with my dolls, in my dollhouse, I was thinking. What if there's a giant or something, you know, playing with us. I mean, what if I don't wanna do what I'm doing? How would I know?"

Molly looked up at Justin, but he was staring at the door, motionless and gaping (a little).

Justin was … well, it's hard to say. The audio (in his head) was a mixture of static and that emergency broadcasting tone. With video to match: Brian naked, wet and soapy. "I'm glad you're here." Brian grinning. "I need …" Brian whispering. A tongue tracing Justin's belly button … fingers entwined...Justin exploding in the dark. Tripping … keys falling … an angry kiss and a little astral projection. Brian moaning, Justin riding him. Sunshine glinting on Brian's sweatslick skin as he fucked Justin slow. God, so slow. The ache of dying light as Justin pulled the loft door closed. "Just stay."

Molly tugged and then yanked on her brother's hand. "Jus. Jus! You aren't listening!"

Justin turned his head and inclined it downward. "Huh?"

Molly rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "You suck."

Justin recoiled slightly. "What? Why?"

"You're just like Sarah's big sister. She had 'boys on the brain,' too. So booooring. Always waiting for Ben to call and doing her nails. She never wanted to play. Not even Clue. And Clue sucks with only two people … Did you knock?"

Justin flushed (his face went from zero to beet red in just two seconds). "Uh, no." He knocked softly.

"You're stupid." Molly paused, bringing the full weight of her glare to bear on Justin. Then she added, "Seriously" and started pounding on the door. After five or seven good pounds, she yelled, "Let us in!"

While Molly was philosophizing (and Justin was ?), Brian was growling. Gus liked red better than white (the colors), so he'd insisted (quite loudly) at the supermarket that they get marinara sauce rather than Alfredo. He'd chanted, "Red, red, red, red, red, red, red!" Complete with drums (Brian had been unable to prevent him from grabbing two metal spoons, conveniently hanging from the corners of every aisle—thank-you-so-fucking-much. So Gus had been sitting on the floor—Brian refused to get a cart—pounding with both spoons, a clang for every red).

Even then (Brian'd been about ready to pull out his hair—at that point, he was desperately trying to repress the 'pasta selection scene'), he couldn't help but laugh. Gus was so like him. He wanted what he wanted and he wanted it right-the-fuck now.

Fast forward to the loft … Gus was kneeling on a stool he'd dragged up to the stove. He'd climbed up and bellowed (yes bellowed), "I wanna pour! I wanna pour!" Brian was currently behind Gus, holding onto his waist so that he didn't go head first into the pot as he poured the marinara in. The jar was plastic. Brian would never make _that_ mistake again (the first time, it was a ketchup bottle, but you get the idea. The spatter ruined his favorite suit—a grey Armani, part of the new fall line. Brian had worn it exactly twice). As Gus poured, he was oooing and mmming, so Brian didn't hear Justin's soft tapping. He did, however, hear Molly's pounding. That came as such a surprise and with such force, that Brian jumped a little, just enough that Gus lost his grip on the jar, which he'd had difficulty holding this entire time because his hands were so small. It went tumbling one half turn (into the pot), landing on its base, in a puddle of marinara sauce and sending (the fortunately still cold) sauce skyward. Gus managed to dodge. Brian nearly lost his grip on Gus and got a faceful.

Then came the yelling (Molly this time). "Let us in!"

TBC…sorry this is so short…I want to write every day, but often, what I end up writing is a half or a quarter of an update…then I hesitate to post it and end up skipping days, which sucks…so…screw it.


	42. Before

Brian pulled the loft door open. He had a squirming Gus under one arm, a crutch under the other, and marinara sauce all over his face (seriously—he had some on both cheeks, his forehead, and his chin). Molly pointed and giggled. Justin barely managed to hold back a laugh. He couldn't stop himself from smiling though. And brightly.

Brian seemed … Justin didn't know … more like Brian before the Diner incident. When they were building rather than falling apart.

Brian wasn't grinning. In fact, he was frowning. But his eyes held a light that had been largely missing for some time (even when he was loopy from painkillers and a concussion). Replaced with a dimness, a dark edge.

Brian broke Justin out of his contemplative trance with a jaunty, half-annoyed, "You wanna help me here, Sunshine?"

Sunshine.

Justin laughed, shook his head, and replied, "Yeah sure," taking Gus into his arms.

But he flushed as he stepped past Brian. Brian had half-whispered, "How do you know I didn't mean the sauce?"

The best Justin could manage was an "Oh" that was nearly indistinguishable from a puff of air.

Brian left him hanging, turning then to Molly with a mildly contemptuous, "You again."

Molly crossed her arms and huffed, "I was gonna say the same thing."

Brian hid his smile behind his hand as he hopped to the left and pulled the door closed. Molly marched inside and took a tour of the loft.

Gus immediately started struggling. "Down now. Down." Justin complied, and Gus toddled after Molly. He followed her around silently at first, but then tried to catch her eye and said, "Hi." But Molly kept up her business-like façade until she was back in front of the door.

Brian raised an eyebrow and gestured with his hand. "Well?"

Molly concluded, "You need more stuff. Are you poor?"

"Hardly."

"People are gonna think you are. And why is everything black, silver, and brown? Those colors are boring. No one's gonna wanna visit."

Justin laughed and chastised, "Molly!"

"What? It's true. He has a boring, empty place. He's not even nice. Do you have any friends? I bet you don't. Except Justin. But he's stupid."

Justin laughed even harder then and chastised her more vigorously, "Molly Ann Taylor!"

"What? Mom always says to tell the truth."

Brian grinned and patted her on the back. "Your mom's right."

Gus tugged on Molly's shirt then. When Molly glanced down at him, he said, "Hi" shyly. Brian smiled at that (and Justin noticed. Of course. Made him feel all warm and fuzzy). Molly didn't say hi back, opting simply to suggest, "Let's play. Are there any games or toys around here?"

Gus immediately ran toward the bedroom. "My daddy keeps his toys in here."

Brian tried (and failed) to catch him. In fact, he nearly toppled over in the attempt. Justin felt even warmer (though less fuzzy) when he stopped Brian's tumbly descent, sliding his left arm around Brian's waist. Justin felt warmer still when Brian placed his right arm around Justin's neck. And he started to tremble slightly when Brian moved closer and looked at him, holding Justin's eyes with his. Brian's held amusement and something else. Something that caused Justin's cock to stir. Well, until Molly ran out of the bedroom holding an 8-inch dildo and yelling, "Hey, my mom has this toy, too!"

Brian burst out laughing (really laughing, a rarity for him when he was stone cold sober). Justin squinted and grimaced, turning away with an "OH!" That just made Brian laugh harder. But he did make his way over to Molly (plunking and hopping—he had just the one crutch with him), wrest the dildo out of her hand (and wrest he did—she didn't want to let go), and snatched the S&M mask off of Gus's head (it was one of those leather masks with a zipper mouth and eye holes that covers the entire head). Then he plunked and hopped over to the bedroom, tossed the dildo and mask into his 'toy box,' and plunked and hopped back into the living room. Brian giggled (actually giggled) when he saw that Justin was supervising as Molly washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

Fortunately (well, kind of), the activity in the kitchen reminded Gus that he'd been pouring sauce into a pot before, and he was eager to resume that task. He jumped, clapped, and giggled, and then cried, "Ooo, I wanna pour."

Unfortunately, the stove had been on the entire time, and some of the plastic had started to melt, as Justin discovered (he'd peeked inside after Gus's cry). He pushed the pot onto the back burner, shut off the front burner, wrinkled his nose (cutely, Brian thought) and said, "I think we'd better order pizza."

Brian was smiling (vaguely, as he was wont to do when he didn't want others to know how happy he was), until he plunked and hopped over to the stove and took a look. Some of the plastic had melted against the side (which was ribbed…Brian had thought it was quite amusing in the store…now, not so much). He'd never get the plastic off. He was so frustrated that he forgot he had a faceful of marinara and proceeded to brush his free hand against his forehead and then started carding his fingers through his hair. It took him all of three seconds to realize his error. He jerked his hand away, looked at it, and growled, "Fuck."

Molly pointed and ooo-ed (he was sooo in trouble, or so she thought). Without even thinking, Justin retorted, "Language!"

Brian quirked an eyebrow, and Justin gaped, turned three shades of red, and mumbled, "Sorry. Uh … my mom says that all the time."

Brian nodded slowly, his eyes wide and amused. Justin wished he could crawl into a hole and die. Well until Brian said, "I'm going to take a shower. Keep the munchkins away from the big boy toys, would you?"

"Oh!" Then as images of Brian in the shower surfaced, he said absently, "Uh … sure …" and smiled softly.

But a few moments later, when Brian had made it halfway, Justin jumped and shouted, "Wait!"

Brian turned.

Just ran over to Brian, all concerned. "Your cast! You can't get it wet." The nurse hadn't said so, but Justin was sure he'd heard that somewhere.

Brian sighed, turned, and resumed his exit. "I have plastic in the bathroom for … well … I have plastic in the bathroom. How do you think I showered this morning?"

"Oh." Deflated now, Justin mumbled, "Right." He wasn't hoping Brian would need his help. Nope.

Brian shrugged (and bit back a smile). "But you can come watch if you want … scrub my back … or whatever …"

Justin's heart skipped a beat, and his breath came in gasps. Suddenly, it felt like they were back to square one, before an actual Joe entered the scene, before the sex, before the I love you, before the game became painful. Building rather than falling apart.

TBC…


	43. Oink, oink

A/N: Sorry about being MIA yet again...work's been crazy, and I had some bad news, which made it difficult to write when I actually had time.

Justin was pawing through the take-out menus he'd found in a drawer in the kitchen. Literally. He was pushing each aside (toward him and a little to the right) with a graze of his hand, rough and quick, like he'd never developed fine motor skills, or he'd morphed into a cat.

Molly and Gus were sitting on the couch. Gus sat proudly. His feet hung three inches above the floor.

Molly looked around dubiously. She didn't think she'd like living there. "We have a cat at my house. Do you have any pets?"

"No, no, no." Gus shook his head furiously. "Mama says no."

"Hmmm."

"What's his name?"

"Huh?"

"Cat."

"Oh Oscar. We found him in the trash."

Wide eyes. "In the garbage?"

Molly nodded solemnly. "Someone threw him away. Jus says that that's why he's 'bitey.'"

Wider eyes. "He bites?"

Molly shrugged. "A little. It's more like gnawing. It doesn't hurt. Much. And he does it a lot less now."

Even wider eyes (they were as big as saucers now). Gus drew his breath in sharply. Molly laughed. That was what Daphne called "the pearl clutcher." She half expected Gus to exclaim, "Oh my!" and reach for his neck. He did exclaim … not "Oh my!" but rather "He bites you?"

With each rejected menu, Justin's nose got crinklier. By the time he reached the end, he was sporting a French fry. Justin was appalled that a man with such generally exquisite taste could have absolutely none when it came to pizza. Domino's? Papa John's? Pizza Hut? Justin shuddered. Then he called Amici. The sauce was divine, and the mozzarella fresh.

He remembered back to the first time he'd ordered from there. He'd tried to ask for double pepperoni. Franco had pretended not to understand. Justin had turned bright red, partly in embarrassment, partly in anger, and almost hung up in frustration. The next time Justin'd called, he hadn't even asked for a single order of pepperoni. Franco had teased him, "No salame picante? No double?"

Molly nodded her head firmly. She kind of liked it when Oscar bit her. Nowadays, he did it slow and almost gently. Like that was one way he expressed his love for her. It meant they had a special connection. "Yup. But Jus says…"

Justin's head sprang up.

"…bitey cats need the most love."

Justin swallowed hard.

"I don't like dogs. They smell bad."

"And drool."

Kids were dumb. But right about now, he almost wished he were one.

"You wanna see my mouse? It moves all by 'self!"

Justin tried to tune Molly and Gus out. Tried. He ran his hand along the counter, first the top, cold and smooth, and then the edge, and sighed. Why was Brian taking so long?

"Squeak, squeak. I'm a little mouse. I'm gonna get the cheese!"

Justin drummed his fingers on the marble and glanced around, trying to pretend even to himself that he wasn't sneaking looks into Brian's bedroom hoping for a flash of bronze skin. Brian's body, warm and damp. Justin shivered. So hard that it actually hurt.

"What are'ya doing?"

Molly shrugged. "What my mom does when she sees a mouse…" She spun the broom (it was about as tall as she and silver and black, of course, but light) with one hand like it was a baton (she couldn't wait til she was old enough to join color guard. She practiced every day with whatever she could safely twirl) and then sent the bristley part back onto the floor right on top of the mouse's head.

"Hey!" Gus held the button down. "You can do it, Sweetie!" (Sweetie was the mouse's name).

Justin accidentally glanced at the kids (while casting his eyes around the loft, pretending not to be looking for Brian). Gus was crawling on the floor toward the broom. Molly moved it every time he drew near, keeping it, and Sweetie, just out of reach. Justin muttered, "Molly, give him back his mouse." Molly rolled her eyes and sighed, but lifted the broom. Gus's eyes lit up and he crawled doubletime to retrieve her.

In the course of glancing around, Justin chanced to look up and saw that Brian had managed to get someone in to install his new track lighting. Another hard shiver. And something else. Pleasant and painful. It kind of tickled his insides. He was suddenly dizzy. _"Too dark. No Sunshine at all."_

"Isn't she cute? She has a pink tail with a curl! Like a pig!"

Molly sighed with her entire body.

"Oink, oink."

Should she tell him he was playing with a cat toy?

Brian was similarly plagued (with memories and questions). He was standing in the bathroom. Sort of. More like leaning. He was remembering Justin's slippery hair and warm (always a furnace), almost velvet skin. Brian couldn't get enough the night before. He felt like he'd been tripping or something. Somehow just ghosting his fingers or lips against (or very near) Justin's skin made him feel … funny. As though it were his skin being touched or teased. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled, creating a tickle-burning. But the burning was weird. Not quite the same as when he desired some trick. Or Justin. (Brian tried to ignore the distinction). It was more like a flush or a fever. But not unpleasant.

Remembering … Brian's brain took that as a request for a repeat performance. Brian had to sit down on the toilet so he didn't fall. He had no idea what he was doing. What he wanted to have happen. He just wanted Justin around. But now that Justin was here … Brian had no idea what his goal was. Brian always had a goal, an agenda. Always. But with Justin … he had no idea. He'd never had any idea. He was simply moving from one whim to another.

"Oink, oink."

_Justin flew into Brian, more specifically into Brian's arms. Somehow, in all the hullabaloo, Brian had thought to toss his crutches. In fact, if Justin wasn't mistaken, Brian had opened his arms to receive him. Unaccountably, Justin's skin burned._

_Brian bit back his automatic retort: "What would your boyfriend say?" He didn't want to talk about Joe. Not now. Not ever. And most of all, he didn't want to joke about Justin's being with anyone else, let alone the snuggler. _

"_You look like a tomato!"_

Wait … got ahead of myself … first there was a kiss and a bat (the flying kind) …


	44. The Bat

The flutter of wings. The yawning of metal (the heater?). A whoosh and an arc of black, like paint tossed into the air.

"What the hell?"

Molly placed her hand on her hip, wagged her finger at Justin, and in a fair approximation of her mother's voice reproved him: "Justin (pause for effect) Taylor! Language!"

Gus rolled over onto his back (he was still on the floor playing with Sweetie) and said, "Ooooooooo, you're in trou-bbbllleee!" Then he started giggling.

Justin ignored both Molly and Gus. He turned his head right and then left and then tilted it back, each time staring for a few seconds, trying, somewhat desperately, to descry the interloper.

More finger wagging. "Don't ignore me, young man!"

More giggling.

Flap. Flap. Flap.

The interloper (was it a bird? a bat?) dove in Justin's direction. Justin cursed ("Fuck!") and turned his head slowly, scanning the air.

"You're only digging yourself deeper, young man! That kind of language is inappropriate for young ears!" (and to Gus) "Cover your ears!"

Gus, still lying on the floor, happily complied.

Exasperated, Justin hissed, "Molly, please!" and unbuttoned his shirt.

A thoroughly shocked Gus dropped his hands (from his ears) and pointed! "Not in the living room! Mommies yell at you for that." He nodded solemnly and turned a little red. The last time he'd taken his clothes off in the living room, during a party, his mommies wouldn't let him eat any cake. Not even a little.

Bare to the waist now and clutching a cuff in one hand, Justin started waving his shirt into the air. A soft, soft, soft cotton, it glided and curled, never once meeting its target.

Flap. Flap. Flap.

Long sleek 'wings' and a furry belly. The interloper was a bat, Justin now realized. It dove and glided in Justin's direction. Justin ducked.

The kids hearing the flapping for the first time, Molly dropped her hand (the wagging finger hand) and looked up, her eyes wide with terror, and Gus, still lying on his back, started screaming.

Brian, who was still in the bathroom sitting on the closed toilet, deep in contemplation, stood (on both feet) in alarm when he heard Gus scream, yelled (he nearly yowled the pain was so acute), and fell back into a sitting position. When the pain subsided (dropped to a manageable level), he lifted himself up again, this time more carefully (using the sink to steady himself) and balanced himself on his good foot. He grabbed the clothes he'd set on the sink and dressed as quickly as he could.

Justin yelled, "Into the bedroom!"

Molly grabbed Gus's hand and pulled him to a standing position. Gus protested, "No, wait, I need to get Sweetie," and wriggled until his hand was free. He dove for the mouse but in his haste sent it skittering across the floor. Molly shrugged and ran for the bedroom, but kept the door open and yelled, "Come on, hurry up!"

Justin scanned the room again.

Gus crawled across the floor so quickly his knees started to hurt, all the while alternately looking up nervously and searching the floor desperately for Sweetie. He breathed a sigh of relief when found her underneath the couch (next to a balled up wife beater and a coffee mug). He cupped her in his hand and stood.

Justin, growing more and more tense with every second that passed, and the kids' screaming and panicked movements, waved his shirt at anything that moved, shadows, a lone fly, Gus …

Gus, carefully shielding Sweetie, screamed again and ran for the bedroom door.

The bat dove once more, this time whooshing toward Gus.

Molly, panicked, yelled, "Come on, hurry up! Hurry up!"

Gus nearly tripped on the stairs he was so scared and he would have had Molly not caught him and pulled him inside, immediately sliding the door shut, with a loud thwack. Molly, still holding Gus, threw herself back against it (the door). Just when she'd caught her breath, her eyes regained focus and landed on a still damp, but clothed Brian looming over her and Gus, balanced on one foot, arms crossed, looking annoyed (and he was extremely annoyed, now that he saw both kids were safe). For the first time that night, Molly screamed.

Brian glowered.

Molly stepped to the side and slid the door open.

Brian grabbed his crutches and moved through and down the stairs.

Molly waited until Brian was a foot away from the stairs and then slowly slid the door shut, though she kept it open a crack. She peered through. Mimicking Molly, Gus sat down on the floor and peeked out. He even held his hand out so Sweetie could see, too.

Justin, finally giving up on his shirt, which had barely managed to graze the bat, let alone fell it, tossed it behind him. It landed on Brian's head. Brian, still unaware of the imminent danger, grinned, pulled Justin's shirt down over his face (though he still held it), and watched Justin in amusement as Justin grabbed the broom Molly had been playing with (he just remembered it was there) and start swinging it wildly.

Molly watched, too, squinting her eyes and scanning the living room and kitchen.

After a few minutes of swinging, Justin let the broom fall, the handle sliding through his now damp hands. The metal squeaked. Breathing heavily (in gasps), Justin ran the fingers of his free hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

A few seconds after Justin stopped swinging, Molly finally caught sight of the bat. She ripped the door open, stepped over Gus (nearly tripping), jumped the stairs (Brian started a little at that), and ran past Justin yelling "I see it! Over there!"

Justin's eyes snapped open. "What? Where?"

Gus, seeing it now, too, ran out into the living room and began jumping and pointing. He went off like an alarm: "There, there, there!" Then he grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it in the bat's general direction. But he put too much of a curve on it, so it flew to the left, hitting Brian in the head. Brian frowned and narrowed his eyes. Gus hung his head and muttered, "Sorry."

Justin, oblivious to everything, was staring in the direction Molly had run, but couldn't see the bat. After a minute, he asked again, even more frantically, "Where? I don't see it!"

Molly pointed. "There! By the bookcase" and Justin sent the broom aloft again and swung. He actually hit the bat this time, sending it careening through the air and into the loft door (it hit with a loud thump and fell to the ground), but Justin swung so hard that he spun around and lost his balance.

Justin flew into Brian, more specifically into Brian's arms. Somehow, in all the hullabaloo, Brian had thought to toss his crutches. In fact, if Justin wasn't mistaken, Brian had opened his arms to receive him (and pulled Justin closer, until Justin's face was buried in Brian's neck). Justin's skin burned.

Despite all his body's responses, which if they could articulate a desire would have urged (most desperately) Justin to remain exactly where he was, and indefinitely, Justin tried to step out of Brian's arms. His embarrassment trumped everything: the hairs on his arms, his legs, and the back of his neck, which prickled, producing simultaneously the most uncomfortable and the most delicious sensation, his slowly hardening cock, his even more ragged breathing, his rapidly beating heart, which had stopped cold the second Brian grabbed him and had raced faster and faster with every second Justin's lips lay on Brian's neck, on Brian's warm, damp skin.

But Brian refused to release him. Brian held Justin tighter and lifted Justin's chin with a finger. Their eyes met. Justin suddenly felt like he were both falling and melting. Brian laughed. "Sweaty and half-naked and flying into my arms…" He unexpectedly stopped, midsentence, biting back his automatic retort: "What would your boyfriend say?" He didn't want to talk about Joe. Not now. Not ever. And most of all, he didn't want to joke about Justin's being with anyone else, let alone the snuggler.

Gus giggled. "You look like a tomato!"

At that, Justin grew even more tomato-y.

TBC…in a day or two


	45. Why is your hair in a bun?

Things that are okay when Brian and Justin were alone or with the kids weren't necessarily okay all the time.

This understanding loomed always. Like waiting for the other shoe to fall.

It didn't.

It didn't.

But then, just when Brian got sort of comfortable, it did.

Brian's humiliation and fear returned, and with an intensity and a quickness that he found nauseating.

One might ask, and rightly so, what could occur to bring about this devolution.

After all, Brian had taken Justin to Babylon and (in front of friends and past and potentially future tricks) grinded against him (albeit after dressing him in slimming attire). He'd eviscerated two rude near-tricks and nearly done the same to Mikey when they'd disparaged Justin's body. And he'd insisted, with a sensitivity that shocked him most of all, that Justin hide nothing when they fuck. But Brian hadn't simply gotten used to Justin's "flaw." He hadn't drowned it with a hundred justifications, with a list of all Justin's other "charms."

Nope.

Brian blamed the dating site "project." In the course of accoutering and positioning Justin to best effect … and photographing him, Brian had looked at Justin from every conceivable angle.

He'd stared at Justin's perfectly shaped ass …

… his seemingly perfectly smooth back … that was in fact, downy, covered as it was in fine, soft blond hairs that glowed when the sun hit Justin just right … a patchwork of pink and ivory … dotted with chestnut freckles and the occasional deep, deep brown mole (three, to be exact) …

… the slight twist to his spine (Brian guessed from a mild case of scoliosis) …

… the curve of his neck, which, with the light behind Justin, and the tens of little hairs thereon, seemed to glow (in nimbus-like fashion) …

… the three gray hairs right by his left temple and the two tiny freckles just under his jaw. (Yes, Brian had zoomed in that close.) …

… his plump perfectly shaped lips, glistening and parted slightly …

… the flush in his cheeks, that often drifted down to his shoulders and chest … and accompanied by an almost ethereal sheen …

… and, when Brian put the camera on "accent," Justin's face, in fact his entire body, suffused with an otherworldly glow …

And the rest?

When Brian looked at Justin's abdomen from the side, he saw the "tires" … and from the front, the young Santa belly (Justin was quite a bit less "jolly" than Santa) … but Brian also saw his smooth ivory skin, not a hint of color (Justin wouldn't be caught dead naked in the sun), his nipple ring, glinting gold, and his belly button, his somewhat gaping belly button, which always caused a hint of a smile to creep across Brian's lips, especially after the Barney Inkin episode in the warehouse.

Brian saw it all, and the sight didn't cause him to flinch, to hesitate, or to grow nauseous (all reactions Brian'd had, though with decreasing frequency as time passed). Not even a little. Brian saw all of Justin and simply wanted him. Just as he was. Without hesitation or reservation. And he wanted Justin around. For a long, long time.

Stupid dating site, stupid Joe, stupid camera.

All this was passing through Brian's mind when he saw Justin swinging his soft cotton shirt and then the silver and black broom at the bat. So when Justin flew into Brian's arms, Brian held on, and tightly, and then he slid his hands up Justin's back (relishing in the smoothness of Justin's skin and tracing Justin's slightly twisted spine lightly with a finger, which caused Justin to shiver, and, then like a domino effect, Brian with him) and along his neck (upsetting the tens of hairs rooted there and eliciting from Justin a shudder-y gasp) and finally buried his fingers in Justin's longish blond hair. In fact, he proceeded to fist Justin's hair. Then he pulled Justin close, suddenly, fiercely, drawing, no rending, from Justin a half choked gasp, and slid his lips over Justin's. Into them would be more accurate. Brian had noted, time and time again, with, at first, a frightening discomfort, how well they fit together. How well all their parts fit together.

That's when it happened. Molly and Gus hissed and screamed. (Molly hissed. Gus screamed.) "EWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Then Molly swung around in disgust, as she did so letting out an exasperated sigh (one worthy of Jennifer Taylor). Gus covered his eyes and then peeked sideways through his fingers.

But that's not "the thing" that happened.

"The thing" (the world-changing, moment-wrecking thing) that happened was that someone threw the loft door open, or rather, slid it open, but hard, so hard it bounced and caused the very walls to shake and the slam to reverberate. Gus jumped, but kept his eyes trained on his dad and Justin. Molly turned toward the intruder and crossed her arms.

That someone (the intruder) was Dylan. As a semi-frequent visitor, he had the code and the key.

So there it was … or rather, there they were. Humiliation and fear. Back, and so visceral, Brian felt faint and like puking.

Not right away, of course. Before Brian could react to Dylan's reaction, Dylan had to react. And react he did.

But first an introduction …

(You are no doubt asking, who the fuck is Dylan?)

One could describe him in a lot of different ways.

An Australian with a thick accent and blond hair.

(his hair) not short. Not long. Maybe two inches shorter than Justin's. His hair was so blond it was almost white and looked perennially crimped, like he'd put it in a passel of braids before bed, unplaited them upon waking, shook his head a few times, and then left the apartment (sometimes even wrapping it in a hair tie, thus fashioning what appeared to be a bun).

Super tan.

Tall, but an inch and a half shorter than Brian, which Brian was always emphasizing, hovering over the man whenever possible and grinning.

Built but not a muscle head.

A soccer player and a surfer (when in the appropriate clime).

Former international student.

Brian's college roommate …

… classmate …

… professional and sexual rival …

… and of course … lover.

Though Brian wouldn't have used that word. But trick wasn't appropriate, either.

Dylan was an advertising executive. He'd moved to New York immediately after graduating college and almost as immediately landed a job at the biggest advertising firm there.

Brian hated Dylan.

Dylan was less successful in back rooms than in board rooms. This was where Brian reigned supreme. They'd participated in an uncountable number of conquest contests over the years, and Brian always won. Hands down.

Dylan hated Brian, too.

Oddly, they also liked each other. One could easily call them "frenemies." Though, to be fair, that was pretty much "how Brian rolled." Only Lindsay, Mikey, and Justin failed to meet the definition.

A couple or few times a year, Dylan appeared at the loft, without notice, without asking. Brian and Dylan would fuck and then go out on the prowl. They'd spend the next two days fucking, in orgies and conquest contests, and then Dylan would disappear, with as little fanfare as when he arrived.

Back to the present … Dylan gaped and then (when he'd recovered sufficiently) laughed. What was Brian doing kissing (kissing!) a fatso? "Bri, you doing court-ordered community service, noaw?" In his thirteen years in the United States, Dylan's accent had remained just as it was the day he first set foot in the Pitts.

Molly dropped her arms, but then brought one back up, placing her hand on her hip.

Brian had been too preoccupied with Justin to hear the EWWWWW or the door (slam-slide shut). But he heard Dylan's lilting brogue. He lifted his head, but didn't turn it. He, and every part of his body, was frozen.

Justin suffered no such condition. But he was dazed. He had been too preoccupied with Brian (Brian, Brian's firm, yet soft lips, Brian's fingers –still– tangled in his hair, and –and– Brian's erection, which was pressed against his own –even now) to hear the EWWWWW or the door (slam-slide shut) or Dylan's lilting brogue. He only knew that Brian's lips were no longer on his. His eyes fluttered open, and he murmured, "Hmmm …"

Finally (now that "the show" was over), Gus let his hands fall (he'd been mesmerized by the kissing). Molly stomped over to Dylan and started interrogating him, "Who are you? Why are you here? Why is your hair in a bun?"

Molly's interrogation sent Justin crashing back to the real, non-floaty world. He snapped his head toward her and nearly jumped when he saw that they had company. He moved to grab Molly.

Brian, finally remembering himself, let go of Justin, stepped back, took a deep breath, and then pivoted. Dylan smiled. Flashed his dimples. Completely ignoring Molly (from his perspective, a glaring mean-looking girl), he quipped (to Brian), "Did you have a slash on another Jack?" Molly didn't like being ignored. She promptly kicked Dylan in the shin, hissed, "I'm calling 9-1-1," and made a run for the phone (the land line).

Dylan yelped and cried, "What's up with the littlies?"

Another sigh (from Brian). Dylan didn't know Brian had a son. In fact, Dylan knew almost nothing about Brian's personal life (since graduation anyway). They fucked. They didn't talk.

Justin caught Molly mid-leap and pulled her back against him. Gus was now facing Dylan, though still standing a foot or two behind his dad and Justin. He stared at Dylan (from his perspective, a scarecrow robber) with wide, unblinking eyes and pet Sweetie.

He said to her, still staring at Dylan, "The robber talks funny."

Sweetie didn't respond.

TBC…


	46. No, stupid It's Molly

Justin was standing on a huge black and gray mottled rock near the Ohio River. The sun, high in the sky, shown down through big puffy clouds. Dripping gossamer flowed into the cool water.

"Affirm that your metabolism is strong. Lift your left arm and right leg. Extend your left arm. Let your energy flow through your arm, into and out of your fingers. Come back into the posture called the child's pose."

Justin got down on his knees and leaned forward.

"Breathe into that posture."

Justin breathed in and out slowly.

"Relieve yourself of stress. Relax your head neck and shoulders. Slowly lower yourself down to the ground."

Justin lay on his belly.

"Lift yourself into the cobra posture."

Justin arched his back.

"Look up. Clear your muscles of stress and tension. This a great way to bring your body back into balance."

"OW!" Justin tilted his head sideways and peered, squinting through the bright sun.

"A great way to bring your body back to harmony and equilibrium."

Justin crawled to a sitting position and swung around. He pulled his ear phones out. "Daph! Why'd you hit me?"

Daphne sighed dramatically. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Justin stood and started stretching. He lifted his arms straight up and put his hands on his hips and stretched left and then right. "Bringing my body back to harmony and equilibrium."

"Jesus Christ."

Justin pushed past her. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to start my run."

Daphne grabbed Justin's arm, holding him fast. "Jus..."

Justin wriggled free, but made no move to leave.

Daphne tilted her head and frowned, but it was more sad than angry or frustrated. "How long are you going to keep this up?" He'd lost more weight in two months than was healthy. If he kept this up, he'd end up in the hospital.

Justin set his jaw and shrugged.

Daphne sighed. "My three months is over. My flight's tomorrow."

Justin sniffed and nodded slowly, his eyes losing focus.

"I could put in for an extension."

Justin shook his head and patted her shoulder. He paused, leaving his hand on her shoulder for a second or two, and then gave it a gentle squeeze before drawing his hand away. "No, no. You're needed there." He set off at a run.

Daphne sighed yet again, more deeply this time, and sat down. "Oh Justin." A cloud passed in front of the sun, darkening the sky. Daphne shivered and rubbed her arms.

Brian blinked awake and then groaned. There was something heavy, two heavy somethings, on his left arm and right leg. He lifted his head and glanced around. Another groan. A red head (not the scary ginger type with pasty skin and freckles, but with auburn hair and olive skin) was curled up on his left side, his right flank lying across Brian's arm. A guy with jet black hair and pale skin was curled up below him, his head resting on Brian's right leg. Brian groaned again and then extricated himself from the pile of man-flesh. None too carefully. He yanked his arm and leg out from under them so fast they both tumbled sideways and he nearly hit the floor. He just barely managed to catch himself on his nightstand.

"Alright. Party's over. Get the fuck out."

More groaning. This time not Brian's. Brian ran his fingers through his hair and walked into the kitchen (walk might be too kind. He swayed and stuttered like a zombie). He heard the loft door slide shut just as he managed to get the guava juice out of the fridge and take a gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shoved the bottle back in. He turned, nudging the fridge door shut.

He muttered, "Fuck."

The loft was littered with half-naked guys, empty booze bottles and broken vials (he discovered this by stepping on one, which elicited a wince and a growl), and all of his furniture was either upside down or lying on a side. He walked through the detritus, kicking the men, none too gently, one after another.

"Get the fuck out. Come on. Get up. Up and out. Up and out."

By the time he made it to the windows, the floor was creaking with the weight of still-drunk men crawling, standing, and staggering to the door.

He turned around only when the creaking and slamming (of the door) stopped.

Then he staggered back to his bedroom and crawled into bed.

Justin resisted the urge to collapse on the side of the road. He'd run three and a half miles at a brisk jog but then sprinted the last half mile. His entire body, head to toe, was suffused with red heat and he gasped and coughed as he tried to catch his breath. He was just about to jog around the block (as a cool down) when his cell rang. Justin pulled out his phone and flipped it open (he was an old school star trek fan). It was a text from Joe.

Babe—ethiopian tonight?

Justin sighed, flipped the cover back down, and started to run (not jog). He could do a couple more miles.

Sweetie (the mouse) was NOT sitting on her friend Gus's dresser or nestled snuggly in his arms as Gus slept. She was NOT at school with him. She was NOT peering at people and places and things from the lofty vantage point of his uplifted hand. She would have been sad (if she could feel—she was after all just a toy mouse, and not even a people toy). She was sitting under Brian's couch covered in dust and hair (a mixture of chestnut and blond). Two months ago, she'd careened across the floor (helped along by her wheels) and under the couch and had sat there ever since, despite Gus's persistent phone calls to his dad. She might have been heartened by the desolate messages Gus left if she could hear (and had feelings). She might have been offended and shocked by what had been transpiring at Brian's apartment since THAT FATEFUL NIGHT if she could see and hear and feel (and had a clue about social mores). But more likely she would have laughed. One thing she would have already have noted (again if she possessed a living body and the requisite mental capacity) was that humans, especially adult humans, were foolish. Even stupid. They rarely knew what they truly wanted or what was good for them or if they did, they pretended not to know. Pride was usually the culprit. Brian (and Justin—though she could not have known this even with a living body and the requisite mental capacity) had been behaving in the most ridiculous manner possible to save face. They both sought "normal," Brian trying to "get back to" it and Justin to "find" it.

Poor Gus was lost. Without Sweetie (and Molly and Justin but especially Sweetie), everything was wrong. Ice cream tasted like ashes in his mouth. Sunshine made him sad. He started to hate show and tell and school and playing. He spent most afternoons and evenings (when his moms weren't trying to lure him back to life and fun with stories and games) sitting at the window staring out into space and cradling the phone. Sometimes he used it to call his dad. He knew that number by heart. But mostly he willed it to ring. For Sweetie to use it to find him. He'd taught her the number. Every day before they left the house, he reminded her.

Then one afternoon, another FATEFUL DAY, something changed.

The phone in Gus's hands, the phone Gus cradled from schooltime to bedtime, the phone that always lay dormant, the phone Gus's moms really only kept out of habit (they both had cell phones)...RANG.

Bringggg. Bringggg.

Gus was so surprised he jumped two inches and almost fell out of the windowseat.

Gus pressed the on button and whispered excitedly, "Sweetie?"

"No stupid. It's Molly."

TBC...


	47. The Stolen Boat

Grinding gravel.

Panting.

Crunch. "Uhn."

Crunch. "Uhn."

Crunch. "Uhn."

Justin was a steam engine.

He wasn't pushing his feet down. The road was lifting them up.

The beauty of simplicity.

Crunch. "Uhn."

_If I don't love you, you can't hurt me._

Crunch. "Uhn."

_If I don't love you, no one in your life, no one you respect, can hurt me._

Crunch. "Uhn."

_If I only want what I have, what I can easily get, I'll never be disappointed._

Crunch. "Uhn."

_If I take everything at face value, I'll never humiliate myself. _

Crunch. "Uhn."

Brian stepped under the water.

_Keep it simple, stupid. _

Kelly Johnson's fourth rule of management.

Clarence "Kelly" Johnson led the team that created the P-38 Lightning (aircraft). He won his first aeronautical design contest at age 13. And he shook off his grade-school "nickname" (Clara) by tripping a boy who called him that so hard the boy broke his leg. That's how he earned his next nickname, the one he chose to keep: "Kelly." Kelly was Michael Kelly, star of some song, a hot Irish guy every girl he saw wanted.

When Brian was young, toddling young, his uncle Ray would tell him stories about Richard Bong, the fighter pilot who took the Japanese by storm during World War II, in his P-38 Lightning. But the person Brian ended up truly idolizing, the man he chose to emulate, was the man who designed the P-38.

Keep it simple, stupid. That was just one of the lessons he learned from Kelly.

Hit em hard. Push through. Don't allow yourself to be humiliated. Be tough instead.

_Fucking is simple. Anything else, everything else, is lesbian bullshit._

"Spaghetti night. Littlies. A boyfriend. And a tub a'lard at that. Fuckin dag..."

Brian's vision dimmed with each accusation. He couldn't breathe.

_The range burned neon. Relief. A cataract of throbs. Screams. "Fucking pussy." Then everything went dark. _

Brian balled his fists. His nails bit painfully into his skin. He stretched his fingers out. His tendons grew taut, near to breaking.

He wanted to be Kelly, not Clara.

So he got tough. Pushed through.

Brian leaned his head against the wall...drew his index finger lightly along the oblong metal faucet... Nudged it to the right.

Farther.

Farther still.

Relief.

Throbbing.

This time, he didn't scream.

And he could finally breathe.

Justin barreled through the door and dropped his keys. Nowhere near the counter. Lifting his wrist that high, that fast...not happening. Justin's body burned, throbbed. He threw himself back onto the couch, even though he was dripping. He grunted. His eyes stung. He wiped his face on the pillow. He nearly slid to the floor, but he caught the couch arm with his foot. He ripped the envelope open and somewhat inelegantly extracted a little piece of paper. It was index-card size.

_One summer evening...I found a little boat tied to a willow tree within a rocky cave, its usual home. Straight I unloosed [the] chain, and stepping in pushed from the shore...It was an act of stealth and troubled pleasure...leaving behind...small circles glittering idly in the moon, until they melted all into one track of sparkling light..._

Justin turned the paper over. And over again.

_Huh. Seems unfinished. _

Then he re-read the message. As though that would make more magically appear

Justin groaned and slid his hand over the back of the couch. He pushed down, lifting himself up.

Another groan. A grimace. A zombie walk to the desk.

Justin collapsed into the chair and nudged the mouse.

He typed like a cat plays the piano. Still he managed to type the first several words. It was enough.

A grunt. A nudge. A click.

Wordsworth's Prelude. Well, part of it. "The Stolen Boat episode."

_But now, like one who rows, proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point with an unswerving line, I fixed my view upon the summit of a craggy ridge, the horizon's utmost boundary; far above was nothing but the stars and the grey sky...lustily I dipped my oars into the silent lake, and, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat went heaving through the water like a swan..._

Justin rubbed his forehead. He itched his elbow. He re-examined the piece of paper, still in his right hand. Aloud, he pondered. "Okay...so this guy joy rides a boat one night. He leaves the cave in the dust...not literally...the track he leaves isn't made of burnt rubber but moonlight. So he's got an ego thing going...he decides he's gonna go to the end of the earth."

_[then] from behind that craggy steep...a huge peak, black and huge...upreared its head. I struck and struck again, and growing still...the grim shape towered up between me and the stars, and still...strode after me. With trembling oars I turned and [rowed] back to the...willow tree..._

"So...as he's going along he sees a mountain...it's big and dark...growing...morphing into a monster. Dude gets scared and runs back to the cave..."

_for many days [after], my brain worked with a dim and undetermined sense of unknown modes of being; over my thoughts there hung a darkness, call it solitude or blank desertion. No familiar shapes remained, no pleasant images of trees, of sea or sky, no colours of green fields; but huge and mighty forms, that do not live like living men, moved slowly through [my] mind by day, and were a trouble to my dreams._

"Unknown modes of being. Monsters haunting his dreams..."

Justin could no longer feel his hands. His feet. His arms or his legs. Just the sudden ache in his chest. He flew out of the chair and snatched the envelope off of the coffee table. He tumbled in his haste, landing on the floor. He didn't even notice, so focused was he on the envelope. He examined the front side. The back side. The inside. Nothing.

He wished he could dust for prints. He felt sure he'd discover that they were Brian's.


End file.
